Tempting Fate
by thinktink2
Summary: Don/Amita fic pondering what could happen if things went a different way if only they'd been allowed to explore it.
1. Chapter 1

AN: First numb3rs fic. Not sure where this came from, except I found I liked and needed more Don/Amita fanfic and there isn't any. It started out with the intention of being more hot and heavy and didn't quite end up that way. Apologies for any mistakes in the timeline. This roughly takes place around season 2 (ish).

* * *

It had started harmlessly enough – just a little competitive bantering, that devolved into flirting. Which led to more flirting, which led to, ultimately where it all really started, he supposed, a heated kiss, stolen one rainy afternoon at Calsci while Charlie worked through an equation for a case he was helping Don with in Larry's office, while Amita graded papers in Charlie's as Don waited.

It was hot, sexy, and riddled with taboo – the sense what they were doing was wrong-so wrong-but it didn't stop Amita from leaning in to steal another one, and Don obliged her, heart beating wildly in his chest, the knowledge Charlie could come skipping back in here, excitement at some breakthrough falling like a boulder at Don's feet were he to catch sight of them.

It was the first time he felt something in so long, something other than the overall dissatisfaction with his life, the mind-numbing fatigue and disillusionment that he'd been feeling with his job lately.

It was dangerous, this feeling, but when he glanced up into Amita's bright eyes, eyes that danced with excitement, he couldn't stop himself from smiling in return. They shared in the secret: that they were indulging in forbidden behavior - the woman his brother coveted and Don, the older brother, slyly stealing her away.

Well, not really, but stealing more than just one kiss as he leaned in one more time and then broke away, not missing the disappointment that flashed in Amita's eyes, the thrill that shot through his own heart again at her obvious interest and he told himself to tread carefully. There were more than just his own feelings at stake and could he really risk his brother's partnership, his relationship with Charlie, because he couldn't control the urge he felt to kiss his brother's…whatever it was he and Amita were to each other.

Girlfriend wasn't right -they had only been on one disastrous date, and Charlie hadn't initially seemed too optimistic about more following, but that had been weeks ago, and Don realized he didn't honestly know if there had been anymore, but felt that his dad, or Charlie, or someone would have said something had there been another one. So where exactly did that leave Amita on the available list?

He shared a tiny, relieved smile with Amita when Charlie came rushing in, oblivious to what had just occurred between Don and his former grad student. Glad he hadn't given into the temptation to pursue another kiss, maybe something more, in the time between the last one and Charlie's appearance. He focused his attention on Charlie and ignored the yammering in his heart and his mind and tried to avoid looking at Amita again. Failed, and caught her looking at him.

Wondered what it meant that she was looking at all.

* * *

It was like that a few more times, the looks, the secret smiles, the banter and flirting. Calls made to his brother's cell, dutifully picked up by his informal secretary Amita (making it apparent his brother had forgotten about his cell again, lost in a haze of numbers, or was down in Larry's office, or lecturing) became opportunities to stoke the fire between them. Once brief, to the point calls now lingered.

There were no more stolen kisses, though, on any subsequent visits, and Don made sure to not find excuses to go and see her or approach her alone. Which worked well at keeping the oblivious third party in all this, Charlie, in mind until the day when Amita apparently took it upon herself to come find him at work, sans Charlie.

"Amita, uh, hey," Don said, taken by surprise to find her at the entrance to his cubicle, looking even more beautiful than usual, clothes a little sexier - maybe like she might have made a little extra effort even? He thought her eye makeup might be a little heavier, her lips glossier. And was all that effort for him?

"Hey, uh, hope I'm not interrupting you at a bad time," she said, smile sweet and hesitant.

"No, I was just making some phone calls, trying to narrow our list of suspects," Don said, rubbing his palms over his knees and, remembering his manners, flashed a brief smile at her in welcome. "What's up?"

"I think I might be able to help with that," she said. "Narrowing your list," she added.

Don's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Really? That would be great," he said sincerely. "When I talked to Charlie, he wasn't optimistic that he'd have something that would narrow the field for me so soon." Something flashed across Amita's face, darkening her expression a little before she forced another smile.

"Yeah, he wasn't convinced that this would help, but I think it will, and I mean it can't hurt to try, right?"

"Yeah, anything has to be better at this point," Don agreed, brow furrowing slightly, wondering at the dissent between Amita and his brother. "So, what do you need?"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were in Don's SUV, cruising down the 405, Amita turned slightly toward him on the passenger seat, an open laptop on her lap as she explained the algorithm she had created to him. Her window was slightly cracked open and it blew long dark wisps of her hair around her face.

"So why doesn't Charlie agree," Don asked when she had finished arguing her point. She frowned again, glancing up from her computer to look at him. "I mean, it's unusual that you guys don't see eye to eye."

"Not really," she said flatly and Don chanced a look at her. He raised his brow questioningly when she met his gaze and she pursed her lips.

"We've been fighting a lot lately," she murmured and the other brow joined its sibling on Don's face. _About what?_ he almost asked, but bit down on his tongue.

"Don't get me wrong, he's brilliant, I mean, I don't dispute that, but he's not right about everything," she said after a moment, and Don wondered if the comment was meant to refer to the math ability, or something else, maybe less quantifiable. "And trying to argue that with him," she said, trailing off and Don huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, believe me, I know," Don said dryly, "but when it comes to numbers it's hard for me to have the upper hand in that scenario. He can out-math me any day of the week. You at least give him a run for his money."

"Ha," she said, smiling shyly before sobering. "It's hard to do that when he won't even listen to what you have to say," she said and Don frowned again, wondering at his brother. "So I thought I would present it to someone who would probably listen, and if it doesn't work out, well, at least we tried, right? It's the opportunity to grab more data."

"Right."

And it did work. Mostly. It gave them more information than they had, and Don leaned over the armrest, trying to look at the screen Amita was inputing information into but it mostly looked like gibberish to him and he found his attention wandering to Amita's face, the look of concentration and happiness that at least some of her work was being validated.

His brother was an idiot, genius not withstanding.

She glanced up and caught his eye, smile softening as their eyes locked together.

"What?" She said self consciously.

Don shook his head, watching as her own eyes skimmed over his face.

"What?" She insisted.

"Nothing," he said, "you're just really hot when you're all proud of yourself. It's cute."

Jesus, did he just say that? He resisted an outward cringe and tried for a winsome smile instead and Amita laughed, shaking her head. The sound was beautiful and set Don's heart thumping again.

"Well, couldn't have done it without you," she said modestly and Don nodded in agreement.

"True," he said. "I did drive you here."

She nudged his elbow with hers and laughed again. "You did more than that."

"Yes, I also bought you a half-caf, non-fat soy latte," he agreed, face twisting in a mock shudder, and Amita laughed again, another beautiful peal of amusement and Don smiled boyishly.

"Yes, that was critical to all this working," Amita said seriously, a dimple betraying her.

"So I see."

"I never did thank you properly for that, did I?" She said, and, before he could start to answer she leaned over and quickly pressed her mouth to his cheek and that rapid thumping that was going on inside his chest ratcheted up a couple of notches. Her mouth lingered there, against his cheek, long enough that reason and good sense fled him, and he turned his head to capture her mouth with his in a solid, heated kiss.

His pulse exploded as they deepened the kiss, Amita turning towards him more fully, enough that when they finally broke away, she was leaning over the armrest, elbows supporting her, hands fisted in his shirt collar. Her laptop was caught by the dash and the armrest, wedged tightly in the space, forgotten between them as Don raised his eyes to hers to find them darker than he'd ever seen them, glittering in the afternoon sunlight. He pressed one more kiss softly against her lips, an apology of sorts, but for what exactly he wasn't sure, except the complicated mess he was slowly embroiling he, Amita, and the unwitting Charlie into, and pushed himself back against the driver side door, away from temptation

"You're welcome," he said, after a moment where he tried to slow his breath. Amita quirked a brow, obviously thinking he was full of himself before remembering the reason the whole kiss started.

"Oh. Right," she said, and shared another secretive smile with him.

"I'll have to buy you some more," he added, and wished he would just shut up, because now it sounded like he planned to do that again, and this worked much better for his conscience if this kept happening suddenly, and without warning or conscious thought on his part.

Not that Charlie would ever believe he hadn't been fully aware of what was going on when he was kissing Amita. He was doing something with a woman that Don should know – _did know_ – was off limits.

And that Don, who Charlie often accused of keeping such a tight rein on his emotions, had let himself get carried away with her.

That he could have stopped this from ever getting to this point at any time, if he had wanted to.

The problem was, he hadn't.

While it was rare for him to show what he was feeling outwardly, it didn't mean he didn't have any at all. He felt things deeply: passion, despair, hope, love, anger, sadness, all of it. Was something of a closet romantic anyway, hoping to find that one girl he could love for the rest of his life.

Becoming more and more skeptical that would ever happen. Work had been wearing him down ever since, well, mom died, he supposed, maybe longer, but it seemed in the last year that it had been exacting a heavier toll on him. A strange melancholia seemed to be taking over as he took stock of his job and his life, and the path he seemed to be on.

Which was why his interest in Amita was so fraught with disaster.

If it was anyone else, he probably wouldn't have hesitated to take things further. Except Amita wasn't anyone else. She was the woman his brother had set his sights on: a beautiful, gifted, and incredibly intelligent young woman who could challenge his brilliant brother.

Besides, even if Don were to pursue something further with Amita, how likely was it to work out between them? Risking what would probably only end up being a fling just to make himself feel better at the expense of his brother's heart, wasn't a wise decision. At this point, he didn't think he could look one more failed relationship in the face.

His life lately seemed lonely and exhausting, married to a job that showed no mercy.

Amita was only in his life because of her association with his brother and the work they did for Don and the FBI – work that gave Don one of the best solve rates in the whole organization. He was risking a lot of things, to entertain the notion of what ifs with an admittedly extraordinary woman.

And if he didn't realize the scope of that now, there was going to be hell to pay, for everyone, later. Not to mention the irrevocable damage to an already fragile relationship with his brother.

"Maybe you should just buy me dinner sometime," Amita said playfully, breaking into his thoughts. Her dark eyes looked at him hesitantly, uncertainly. Hopefully. It was like she knew the offer would probably be rejected, Don polite, almost apologetic. The voice of reason would prevail - Don would nip this in the bud, unwilling to risk hurting his brother. That he knew whatever was going on between them wasn't just harmless flirting, but couldn't go on, anyway.

Worse, was the knowledge that whatever it was, Amita was fully game to explore it further, making resisting temptation all the more harder.

It _should_ be rejected.

Dinner was a bad idea.

* * *

One that didn't stop him from making plans with her days later, a moment of weakness, after another half dozen calls between them, and a handful of not subtle hints on the phone from Amita. He felt something had irrevocably been set in motion by agreeing to see her again.

He told himself he would use the dinner as an opportunity to talk about all the reasons why it would never work out between them, or why they needed to end it now, before it really went too far, a sort of breakup dinner, except, well, they weren't even really going out, were they?

Their first and last meal, right?

It had been his honest intention, to let her down gently.

Except she looked amazing when he picked her up. Wearing a satin, emerald green dress that hugged her curves, and sexy, strappy high heels that showed off her beautiful long legs. The neckline of the gown revealed a gold necklace with a pendant that was hidden in the crevice between two bronze, beautiful breasts. He'd felt his breath leave him at the sight of her and Amita had seemed pleased by his reaction, smiling softly, dark eyes meeting his, a thrill going through both of them.

She was whip-smart, funny, sweet and sarcastic at the same time, and sexy – God was she sexy, he thought, and unpretentious about all of it. She was an easy-going and refreshing dinner companion, and, shockingly, topics of conversation flowed fluidly between them, not one of which landed (very long) on Charlie or why he was the reason they shouldn't even be doing this.

They talked for a long time. He talked to her about things he hadn't really touched on with anybody in years. His childhood and growing up in the shadow of genius; his mom; college and baseball; joining the FBI and those first few wild years doing fugitive recovery; Albuquerque; some of his regrets. He hadn't felt so connected with someone in a long time. It reminded him again how painfully lonely he was, how much he kept tightly reined in, terrified to let somebody get too close, and naturally if there was a person more wrong to pursue such a step with in Amita, he couldn't imagine them. She listened attentively and let him talk, and didn't push him too hard to know more or dig deeper.

He took her home hours later, when they realized the restaurant was closing up and the staff was waiting on them to leave. He followed her up the stairs to her apartment to see her to her door safely. Ducked his head slightly when she expressed her thanks at his gentlemanly gesture, and didn't offer any resistance when she asked him to come inside for a drink.

He guessed it was what they had both planned on happening, anyway.

She handed him his promised drink and took a seat beside him on her sofa. Thanked him for dinner, long, tan legs tucked underneath her. She had kicked her heels off sometime between unlocking her door and playing hostess as he drifted around her living room, taking in the family photos and books, cds, and magazines. She had eclectic taste, he noted, and studied a couple of the titles before hearing her come in behind him.

Her knees kept brushing against Don's thigh on the couch, but neither she nor Don moved to make more space between them as she propped an elbow against the top of the sofa and leaned her head against her hand and studied him.

"This was the best night I've had in a long time," she said. Don smiled distractedly in response. She really had great legs, he thought, laying a hand hesitantly just above her knee. The skin was as soft and silky as it he imagined it to be. It was the last coherent thought he had when she reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, and then leaned forward to place a soft, sweet kiss on his mouth. He was inexplicably undone by the gentleness of it. Returned it by pulling her closer, deepening the kiss, tongue exploring. His hand inched up her thigh, as hers slid along the side of his face, his stubble scratching lightly against her palm.

They parted, eyes locking, and embraced more fully, Don's hand pushing the hem of her dress up her thigh, Amita using both her hands to slide on either side of Don's jaw, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his. He moved his other hand to trace his fingers over the gold chain hanging around her neck, following it over her collar bone, the swell of her breast, down towards the crevice. They broke apart again suddenly, out of breath and Amita's eyes dark with desire.

He was in her bed less than ten minutes later, his curiosity about the mysterious pendant that hung between her breasts satisfied, her dress gone, his shirt, shoes, and pants too, soon her underwear and then his, and all that hung between them was that gold necklace and the distant memory that this probably shouldn't be happening.

* * *

They were served with a rude awakening on how bad a decision the night before was when they were interrupted by Charlie pounding on her door at 6:30 a.m.

He had just finished showering, Amita still lying naked and half-asleep in bed, hair tousled around her face and pillow. She had given him a shy smile when he had grabbed his watch off the night stand. Had lazily slung her arms around his neck when he perched on the side of the bed beside her to slide it on his wrist and took a moment to lean down to kiss her. Pouted prettily when he pulled away and declined her invitation to fix him breakfast, accepting another kiss as a rain check for later, and he was pretty sure, despite whatever his intentions before that there was now going to be a later.

The knock came ten minutes later when Don was checking his messages, and Amita had finally risen from the bed and was pulling together her clothes for the day. At first it didn't register with Don, engrossed in listening to a voice mail from Megan the night before, but Amita immediately paused in garment collecting, brow furrowing in confusion. It came again, more insistent, and that time Don heard it. He looked over at her.

"You expecting anyone this early?'

"No, I mean, the only one who would come over this early would be…"

Charlie.

They looked at each other again, the hazy, night-well-spent feeling that had been coursing through Don's veins freezing instantly when he heard it.

"Amita?"

"Shit, Charlie," Amita said, looking at the clothing she had amassed, and then hurriedly throwing some of it on.

_Shit_, was right.

"Why is he here this early?" Don asked, trying to delay the sense of dread he felt creeping in.

"Who knows?" Amita muttered. "Probably something to do with the theory he was working on."

Of course. Numbers. The case. He wouldn't know that Don had just spent the night with Amita. Right? Unless…maybe he came by last night and saw Don's car? Decided to confront his asshole of a brother first thing in the morning as he slunk out of Amita's apartment with a decided lack of shame?

"I'll get rid of him," Amita said. Don swallowed and nodded, wondering how they should play this out. He was too old, technically, to hide in a closet or go climbing out a window and down a fire escape, but that didn't stop him from considering both for a second.

They were all consenting adults here. By all counts, and Amita had said as much last night, it had only been that one disastrous date between Amita and Charlie that had occurred weeks ago. She was technically free to date whomever she wanted, except Charlie would think that Don should know better than to consider her on the market. It was the unspoken rule, after all, especially after that whole debacle with prom all those years ago.

Don _should_ know better.

Problem was, Don didn't care last night. It was easy enough being with Amita to forget Charlie existed.

Amita closed her bedroom door behind her and Don sat on the bed, ears tuned to the sounds beyond wondering what he would say to Charlie if confronted.

"Hey, Sorry, did I wake you? I thought you'd be up already," he heard Charlie say.

"Yeah, sorry…I overslept," she said, and she sounded a little breathless. "What's up?"

He heard rustling sounds; the sound of a chair scraping across the floor.

"I think I may have it figured out," he heard Charlie say.

"Oh, um, what?"

"Don's case. His suspect pool. How we can narrow it down."

"Oh," he heard Amita say distractedly. "Oh, right. Uh, he didn't tell you?"

There was a pause, and Don could just imagine Charlie, in the process of setting up whatever equation he was about to explain, looking up at her curiously. No, Don had not told him. Why would Don have admitted to any time spent alone with Amita? Not that, prior to today, that it would have been any big deal, but he could see now how it might be laying a pattern of behavior for Charlie later if he came to realize something going on.

"No, actually, I haven't seen or talked to him since Tuesday morning."

"Oh. Oh, well, I developed an algorithm using the methods I told you about to narrow it. It worked." This was said a little more pointedly, and Don figured Amita was still a bit sore at having her work dismissed outright by his brother.

"Oh, um, okay. It did?' Charlie sounded skeptical.

"Mostly," Amita replied, a bit grudgingly. "We were able to triangulate the area that we think has the greater probability for suspects, and eliminate about 85% of the candidates."

"Oh, oh, well, that's good. It's a good start. Larry and I think we have a formula that can narrow the field even further. With a 95% or better probability. Here, I'll explain." Don perked up despite himself, rudely reminded in Charlie's arrival that he still had a case to solve and could use whatever help he could get to get it done.

"Great," Amita said, not sounding impressed or enthused. Then again, she was supposed to be trying to herd Charlie out the door, and from the sound of it, it seemed more that Charlie was settling in.

"Well, you can explain it all to me later," Amita said, confirming Don's line of thought. "I still need to shower and get dressed. I look a mess."

She looked freshly fucked, and beautifully so, and Don hoped that Charlie didn't recognize the look, since he was liable to ask questions.

"No, you, you look…great," Charlie stuttered, and Don winced, hearing the sincerity in his tone despite the delivery. "And I-I can wait. I was hoping I could ride in with you. I took the bus. We can discuss the theory on the way to the FBI."

"Oh, you don't have to wait on me. I might be awhile," Amita said hurriedly.

"Oh. Okay, well, I guess I could call Don for a ride," Charlie said, after a second. "I tried to call him last night but all I got was his voicemail." Don's eyes widened and he frantically grabbed for his phone to mute it before it trilled in the apartment and gave away his position. He had turned it off last night, sometime during his and Amita's dinner, deciding he didn't want distractions or an excuse to leave her. He was still going through his messages this morning when Charlie had shown up at Amita's doorstep just after dawn.

"I think he said something about an early morning meeting or something," Amita said uncertainly, voice trailing. "When I talked to him, um, yesterday. You don't want to call and interrupt. It sounded important."

"Oh," Charlie said. "I guess I can call dad."

Don sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

That would be perfect. Both Amita and Charlie _and_ his dad over here. If Charlie hadn't noticed his car in the parking lot then Dad surely would. Since the bus let off at the front of Amita's apartment complex and the tenants parked in the back, it might explain how Charlie had missed it.

He felt for sure Dad wouldn't, but maybe because it was his dad that always seemed to have a sixth sense for when Don was up to questionable behavior.

"Oh, you know what, never mind. It's fine. Just, uh, um…Let me just…do something…with my hair and I can take you in just a few minutes."

"I don't want to rush – I mean, I can wait, I don't mind. You said you were just getting ready to take a shower?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's 6:30, Charlie," Amita said with a self-conscious laugh. "It's a little early. I still haven't had coffee yet."

"Right," Charlie said. "Sorry, I didn't think about the time. I just – I figured it out and –Seriously, I can wait. I'll just fix us a couple of cups and read the paper or something while you get ready. Take your time."

"Oh, um, thanks, but you don't have to do that. I'm sure you didn't realize…about the time," Amita said. "And, well, this is important, right? Let me…just…give me a few minutes."

The window option was sounding more and more likely, Don reflected, glancing out of it, especially since now he was going to have to beat feet to the FBI before Amita and Charlie got there. He stood and examined the window closer. They were three stories up. It wasn't the first complex he'd climbed through a window and down a fire escape from, although all the times before (with the exception of one, he reflected ruefully), he'd at least been chasing a suspect.

He heard soft footfalls and a second later Amita reappeared, closing her bedroom door behind her, a hand leaning on it.

"What are – are you seriously thinking about going out the window?" She whispered, mouth twisting in surprise.

"You got a better suggestion. It's not like I can just waltz out the front door."

Although he could just imagine the expression on Charlie's face if he did.

"I know. I'm sorry, he won't leave!" She whispered. "Look, you don't have to climb out the window. I'll finish getting dressed and take him to your work."

"You're going to have to take him to breakfast or something, because I still need to beat you there and it's getting to be rush hour traffic."

Amita swore and rolled her eyes. "Maybe I could take him to Calsci?" She suggested.

"That would be even better," Don said, and Amita nodded, biting her lip.

"This wasn't a mistake," she said, and Don looked up at her. "I don't regret anything that happened last night."

"Doesn't look like the best decision I could have made, though, spending the night," Don answered quietly.

"I'm not sorry," Amita said, moving closer and Don looked away.

He wasn't sure he was, either, but Charlie had no idea that Don had moved in on with what he considered his girl, without any idea that something had been going on between said girl and his older brother for a while now, right under his nose.

The realization would be devastating to say the least, and Don owed him an explanation before he found out in the most painful of ways.

"It's complicated, between Charlie and me," Don said and Amita nodded reluctantly. "We were never very close growing up, for a lot of reasons, and what you and I did…that's not going to help that. I shouldn't have let this happen," Don said quietly.

"You didn't _let_ anything happen. It's what we _both _wanted. There's something there, I know you feel it, too, Don. I don't want Charlie getting in the way of us, and I don't want me getting in the way of you and him, and I don't want to have to stop seeing you," she said, voice wavering, eyes locked on his and he could see the depth of feeling there.

"Amita," Don breathed, and she cut him off with a kiss.

"Just give me ten minutes," she whispered "and we'll be gone and then you can leave." He nodded, watching her grab a hair tie and loop it through her hair in a pony tail. She kissed him again after she grabbed her shoes and socks, a long, deep kiss, and he returned it feverishly, grabbing her face between his hands before remembering they didn't have time for passionate, leisurely kisses, but it felt like it might be the last time he got to kiss her.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you to whoever took the time to review. It seriously made my day. I know the show has been off the air well over ten years now(?), so the fandom probably isn't as active as it once was, and judging by the amount of fanfics on the subject, there's not much interest in this pairing, but thank you for riding with me while I explore this idea for a bit...

Someone asked if there was more to the story, and yes, it will be told in 6 parts, all completed.

Part 2/6

* * *

Despite having made good on her promise to delay Charlie, and thus any discovery, Don took the near miss at her apartment to heart (somewhat) and focused his attention on work and solving the case. He told Amita as much during a brief moment alone during a visit to Calsci and Charlie. She had accepted the news wordlessly, her beautiful eyes big and dark and penetrating through him shrewdly. He ignored the pang in his chest, the uptick in the beat of his heart at the sight of her, and made sure to fill his days and nights (again) with work and not much else.

She returned the favor by avoiding him as much as possible after that, and though he should have been relieved at no longer skulking around behind his brother's back with Amita, he wasn't.

He'd hurt her. He knew that. But worse, he reminded himself, was the knowledge of how much he would hurt Charlie if Charlie knew.

He toyed around with the idea of telling Charlie. Wondered at how much he should say. Chickened out every time at telling his brother everything – that he'd slept with Amita. Considered parceling out the truth, instead. He'd bought her coffee. Dinner. Talked and flirted on the phone with her whenever Don called looking for Charlie and Amita answered it. Kissed her. Perhaps it might be better if he just alluded to being interested in her. Test the waters, or just straight up ask Charlie if he minded since, hey, their date was so awful, and it didn't seem like it was going to work out for them, if Don asked her out on one.

Couldn't hardly bring himself to form the words.

Nearly choked on the ones he did offer when Charlie, one day in the garage, lamented on the state of his relationship with Amita after Dad asked about her not being around much anymore.

"You know, I mean, I thought for a while she was seeing somebody else," he said glumly to them as Don very calmly finished the sip of beer he'd just taken.

"What makes you think that?" His dad asked and Don tried not to appear too interested in the answer.

"She's just been different. Distracted. It's shown in her work. I mean, when I called her on it, she got really defensive."

"I haven't noticed anything lacking in her work," Don cut in. "I mean, that theory she came up with on the Switzer case, that helped us narrow the search pool quite a bit. I thought that was good work."

"No offense, Don, but you don't know her as well as I do," Charlie said condescendingly, and Don picked at his beer label silently, biting down his reply.

_I know she's ticklish behind her knees and that she's got a freckle on the topside of her thigh, right where it meets her hip, and that she's turned on when you nibble her ear._

"Plus, I had noted a marked focus on her appearance lately."

"What do you mean?" His dad asked.

"She's more made up, like she's trying to impress someone. Wearing more makeup, perfume, and her clothes appeared to be chosen to accent her features better. They were different…and nicer…a lot nicer," Charlie reflected appreciatively.

"You mean more revealing?" his dad asked dryly.

Yeah, Don had thought so, too. The effort to spruce up a bit wasn't unappreciated, Don thought, but she was a beautiful woman no matter what she wore.

"Yeah, well, anyway, I just thought that that pointed to the fact she had met someone else."

"Well, Charlie," Alan began, "It doesn't mean she's serious. I mean, you said, you _thought_ she was seeing someone. Sounds like maybe she's not anymore. This is the perfect opportunity to ask her out again."

Don managed not to choke on his next sip of beer.

"Ah, I don't think so dad," Charlie said wistfully, shaking his head.

"Why not? Donnie, help me out here. Tell your brother if he wants to find real happiness, he's got to take a chance. You can't just quit because things were harder than you expected. So, you had one lousy date? This could be the one. She's the girl of your dreams, right?"

_What if she is the one? _Don wanted to ask, staring morosely into his beer. He couldn't help but read a slightly different message in his father's advice. _Maybe I could find real happiness with her. Does that matter to anyone?_ _Maybe she's the one for me. Do I take the chance to find out, and risk hurting my brother? Or do I do what I always do, what's expected of me and step aside, even though they don't know about us. Give Charlie opportunity to try another hand at wooing Amita. He had his chance_, he thought crossly, _and it didn't work out_.

"Donnie?" His dad repeated.

"Well, I mean, _I_ usually quit if the date's lousy. Lousy date means no chemistry. It's usually a sign it's probably not going to work out."

"No wonder you're still single," his dad said dryly.

"Right," Don said, rolling his eyes, summoning patience from somewhere. "Well, I mean I don't think I'm the person to ask, Dad," Don said. "With my track record?"

"Track record with what?" His dad said, confused.

"Women."

"You've had way more luck with women than me," Charlie pointed out. "Way more. The was a parade of them in high school."

"Yes, well, you recall that not one of those ended up as any sort of long-term relationships," Don replied.

"That we know of. I mean, look at Kim."

"_I_ knew about Kim," his dad cut in.

"Plus, I guess she was _after_ high school," Charlie said thoughtfully.

"Anyway," Don ground out not appreciating the reminders. "I think I'm the last person you should be asking for advice about Amita."

"What's this?" His father said in disbelief. "Am I never to have grandchildren with this defeatist attitude from both of you?'

"Maybe she's just not interested in having a romantic relationship with Charlie, Dad. She has the right to be with whoever she wants, and maybe, unfortunately, we all have to wrap our heads around the fact it's somebody else."

He glanced at Charlie and looked down again at his beer, that slightly hopeful expression he remembered from childhood fading from his brother's face at Don's words and their lack of encouragement.

"But you know, you've been married longer than any of us, so maybe dad's right, Charlie. Maybe you should try asking her out again," Don muttered, taking a swipe at his beer and focusing on one of Charlie's chalkboards.

"Of course I'm right," his dad said succinctly. "Father knows best."

"If you say so," Charlie replied.

* * *

"Eppes," Don said briskly into his phone.

"Why is Charlie asking me out on another date? Why aren't you?"

Don glanced around him. Megan was bent over her desk working on a brief, but she glanced up questioningly when she heard Don's chair squeak as he swiveled to survey his surroundings.

"I'm just going to step out and take this," he mouthed, and Megan nodded.

"Hello?" Amita said loudly.

"Yeah, I'm here, give me a minute."

He debated where to take the call that would afford him some privacy and settled on taking the elevator to the mezzanine where at least he could put some distance between this conversation and his team.

"I'm stepping on the elevator – hang on," he said, and Amita sighed impatiently into the ear piece. He strode out on the mezzanine and moved toward a less populated corner.

"Okay, I'm here. Now, what?" Don said.

"You heard me," she retorted.

"Why is he asking you out?" Don replied, deliberately ignoring her second question. "You know the reason why. He's totally enamored with you."

"Yes, but why aren't you asking me out for a second date?"

"You know the reason for that, too," Don said with a quiet sigh. It was silent on the other end for a few moments.

"Charlie," she said bitterly, and Don closed his eyes for a moment. "You're letting him dictate your happiness, Don. _My_ happiness."

"Maybe we just need to give it a little more time," Don heard himself offer. "Maybe he'll find somebody else and move on with them, and he won't care who you're with."

"Maybe," Amita said wistfully. "I'm not going to put _my _happiness on hold indefinitely to wait that scenario out. I told him I wasn't interested. He needs to respect that."

"Yeah," Don said, trying to not to let her words sway him.

"I heard you closed your case," she said. Don was momentarily glad for the change in topic. "Congratulations."

"Thanks, my prize was a half dozen more landing on my desk that very same day," he replied tiredly. "But I appreciated everything you guys did, all your help," he added.

"Thank Charlie," she said flatly.

"I did."

More silence, but now that he had her on the line, could hear her voice, imagine her face, he was reluctant to hang up.

"So, how did he ask you out?" Don queried, not out of any desire to know, really, but more so he could have an excuse to keep her on the line longer. Whatever help she'd offered on any of his subsequent cases she made sure to keep on the peripheral of, and left the comings and goings and relaying of information to Charlie.

"Flowers. And candy, and the stupidest looking stuffed…I think it's an animal…"

"Charlie did all that?" Don exclaimed. Not without help. He thought his father had better taste than that, but maybe he'd given him too much credit.

"I thought they might have been from you," she said sourly, "since none of them are signed."

"Yeah, the flowers and candy bit not really my style. Maybe flowers, I guess, the right girl. Her favorite kind," Don conceded. He'd done that…twice. Maybe.

"I didn't think it was, but I didn't know who else…"

"Surely the Eppes brothers can't be your only admirers," Don teased gently.

"They're the only ones I care about. One, in particular."

Don took a slow steady breath.

"What kind of flowers did he get you?"

"It's not just what kind, it's how many. There are six dozen red roses. I can't even _see_ the surface of my desk, never mind work."

"Hmm," Don said noncommittally.

"I mean, they're beautiful, don't get me wrong, but…"

"But they're not your favorite. You seem like a girl who's more impressed with a flower that's less associated with traditional wooing and cheesy romance."

"I don't dislike roses, they're just not my favorite. And I don't need six dozen of them either."

"Ah, good to know," Don said, looking at his watch.

"Tiger Lilies."

"Huh?."

"I like Tiger Lilies. They're my favorite. In case I qualify."

"Right." He said after a moment to clear his throat.

They were silent again, Don thinking he needed to get off the phone and back to work, not plucking at the frayed threads of their almost-relationship.

"I miss this. You." She said suddenly. and Don's throat tightened. "And Us. Flirting."

"I don't know that we're flirting. We're just talking."

"Nothing wrong with two people talking," she said agreeably.

"Right," Don agreed cautiously.

"Be nice to talk in person."

"That's probably not a good idea considering the circumstances."

She sighed loudly. "No, probably not, but at this point I don't care. And you promised to buy me unlimited soy lattes, whenever I want."

"When did I do that?" He exclaimed in disbelief.

"That night," she said sultrily.

"Oh," he said, something fluttering in his groin. Her voice summoned all sorts of images of her and that night.

"And I _want_, Don,"she added in the same teasing tone. "You promised."

"That condition was made under duress," Don retorted, cheeks warming as they turned up in a reluctant smile. "Given what we were doing at the time…I would have promised you anything."

Amita laughed, and Don's grin widened.

"Besides, that will never hold up in court."

"Better hope it doesn't come to that."

"Oh yeah? What do you intend to charge me with?"

"Breach of contract."

Don grinned.

"Sounds serious."

"We might be able to reach a plea," she said magnanimously. "Maybe just knock it down to community service."

"I didn't know you practiced law in your spare time," he said sarcastically. "So, what would that involve? Do tell."

"I will. Over Coffee."

* * *

He bought her coffee after work because it seemed the lesser of two evils. Dinner on a Friday night was like the gateway drug to darker, more dangerous things.

Which didn't explain how an hour later they sat in the lot outside Don's apartment making out in his car like two lovestruck teenagers, Amita's latte steaming in the cupholder between them.

* * *

She spent the entire weekend with him, blessedly uninterrupted by anyone knocking on his door (few people did) at the crack of dawn or otherwise, and eliciting more promises by questionable methods. Don managed one or two of his own from her.

He'd kept his one promise to her and broke an unspoken one with his brother.

* * *

Monday, Don anonymously sent her a half dozen tiger lilies in an arrangement.

* * *

Charlie took the surprising arrival of the tiger lilies heralding another suitor vying for Amita's hand hard, and her delighted reaction upon receiving them even harder. She, of course, knew exactly who they were from, while Charlie only had confirmation he wasn't the only one trying to pursue something with Amita.

She let him down easy, explaining she thought they were better off as friends, which left Don awkwardly trying to offer comfort to a dejected and crushed Charlie when he sought it, unable to present his own truth about the situation.

So they went back to stolen kisses and sneaking around, and spending the night at Don's once or twice a week since nobody ever came there. After a few weeks, the nights spent together increased, sometimes to three or four, sometimes the evenings spent in each others arms, others spent terribly domestic – Don watching a game decompressing from his day, while Amita graded papers beside him, or conducted research, or worked on some of her algorithms at his table while Don cooked dinner. He wasn't as helpless as his brother in that regard, and not near as skilled as his father, but he enjoyed it, and her, the rare times he attempted it, as he moved about the apartment talking about his day, and asking about hers.

Amita seemed impressed with his culinary skills, too, or maybe just the fact that she was witnessing an Eppes brother who had some. Sometimes cooked for him herself, and he found her to be an excellent chef, and discovered she loved to bake, taking over his kitchen and producing some delectable concoctions.

A few months in, he gave her a key to his apartment, and found himself coming home to it more often, anticipating seeing her, wondering if she would be there to greet him with a kiss when he opened his door. Or find her asleep in his bed, or perhaps waiting up for him, looking scholarly and sexy in a pair of dark framed reading glasses, a thin camisole and panties, as she read from one of her many books and scholarly journals stacked on the nightstand beside her.

He started to think of things and spaces in his place as hers, knew it was getting serious between them and started to reconsider how he would break the news to Charlie that Amita was practically living with Don now.

Charlie had finally started to move on from his attachment to Amita. Had accepted that they were never going to be more than friends since Amita had declared no interest in pursuing anything further.

Had still wondered though, at who had captured Amita's attention and heart without him ever being the wiser, and wondered further at her reticence to name the person or to rarely speak of him.

Amita had wondered at it, too. Thought it ridiculous that they were still carrying on in secret after all this time. Privately, Don agreed. He thought it ridiculous, too, but he he knew his brother. No matter how he spun it, what truths he parceled out, Charlie would never see Don's relationship with Amita as anything other than an act of betrayal, especially now that it had carried on for so long.

He didn't tell her he tried one time, before they had exchanged keys, to feel Charlie out about it.

"How are things with Amita?" Don had asked suddenly one day at Calsci, spying her empty desk. Charlie looked over his shoulder, away from the chalkboard he was contemplating as he enthusiastically explained some nonsensical equation to Don, chalk hovering in his hand.

"Good, I mean, as good as they're going to be I guess."

"Yeah? You okay, with…with everything? Being friends?"

"Not like I have a choice," Charlie said, turning back to his board, mouth twisting derisively. "She's declared she's not interested in pursuing anything further."

"Yeah," Don said, wondering how he should broach it. "You're okay with her seeing someone else, though."

Charlie shrugged. The piece of chalk he held in his hand hovered over the chalkboard, tips of his fingers whitening.

"I mean, if another professor asked her out, or some guy at the coffee shop, or hell, me, you'd be okay?"

Charlie turned to look at him disbelief. "Look, I'm not going to sink into some P vs. NP, thing like with mom, if that's what you're worried about."

"Yeah, I know," Don hurried to say, wondering privately if that was true if he knew about Don and Amita.

"And no, I guess if I'm being honest, I wouldn't be okay, especially if it was you. But, I mean, come on, you know better."

"Right," Don agreed, trying not to let his disappointment show.

"It's Amita, so yeah, fine, okay. Maybe I'm not that okay about it, but what choice do I have. I still want to be friends, so, she can do whatever she wants. The whole point is moot, anyway."

"Oh yeah, why's that?"

"I think she's still seeing that guy she refuses to talk about."

"Yeah? Must be serious."

"Who knows. I don't think he works at the university though, whoever he is."

"Yeah, well, she could have met him anywhere, right? I mean, the important thing to focus on is he makes her happy, so, you know, how bad a guy can he be?"

"I guess," Charlie said sullenly. "Makes you wonder though why she never wants to bring him around. Nobody's met him."

"Maybe she doesn't want to rub your face in it."

"Maybe. Anyway, looks like we'll both be seeing less and less of her. She spends most of her free time nowadays, I think, doing stuff with him."

* * *

That was true. As Amita spent more time at Don's they started sharing more pursuits together. He took her to a Dodger's game one weekend, was thrilled to discover she loved baseball, and didn't ruin the experience by getting mired in the statistics and numbers of the game. Was content to drink a beer, eat a hotdog, and express outrage on the poor calls the umpire made with him. And she had looked great in some short shorts and a baseball tee and cap. They played tennis one day, and he was treated to the spectacular sight of her long legs in one of those tennis outfits. Discovered she wasn't half bad at sports, learned quickly, and became particularly ruthless at racquetball.

He attended a lecture with her at a neighboring university, listened to her expound excitedly at the dinner that followed, and watched another series on video at home with her. They spent an entire morning one Saturday at a farmer's market she had been dying to go to, and combed through the vendors thoroughly. She'd shown off her legs then, too, in another pair of shorts, he reflected, and he'd been rewarded for his patience later that afternoon when they were wrapped around him in the shower.

She was a closet gamer, he'd discovered, and there had been no end of teasing by him once he'd realized how seriously she took it. She took the ribbing good naturedly, and served him up some comeuppance when she'd stopped by on her way to a convention, dressed as her virtual alter ego, a sort of middle ages warrior priestess with her breasts bound in a metal and leather bodice getup that had him rethinking his previous derision about sci-fi and fantasy, and those who liked it. Hey, he'd liked Star Wars and Lord of the rings. He could definitely get behind this if this is what it looked like.

There were more serious moments, too, like when he got injured at work. It was always his job that crashed everything back to reality.

Some bruised ribs and a mild concussion, tame really, for what he usually ended up with, but he'd been too close to a blast, got tossed by the force of the explosion and had to spend the rest of the day fending off dad, Charlie's and Amita's concerns.

Dad and Charlie could be avoided somewhat easily enough, but she was waiting for him at his home when he eventually persuaded his family he was well enough to go to his apartment. Her pensive brown eyes and the way she'd leapt to her feet from the chair she'd been sitting in when he'd entered let him know how worried she was.

Unlike his dad, he allowed her more leeway in investigating his injuries, and she was a much sexier nursemaid to have attend him than dad anyway.

He was positive she even looked better than dad would have in that sexy nurse's outfit she wore as a joke in an attempt to demonstrate she could handle this, Don injured on the job, even though he could see she was still worried.

He started to wonder what other costumes she had in her closet.

She had grinned when he asked her that, legs curled up underneath her as she knelt over Don on the bed, and he fingered one of the straps of the garter she wore, pulling a white, silky stocking taught over her thigh. He contemplated if he could make a go of it with her, with his ribs wrapped and his head pounding.

"Don't even think about it," she said, noticing his look. "You're taking it easy the whole rest of the week, and until your ribs heal up."

He stared at the mound of cleavage filling his view as she fussed over him.

"Tease," he said, finger hooking over the low collar of the bodice and pulling it so he could have an even better view down her top. She smacked his hand away.

"I mean it."

He sighed but said nothing, head still too fuzzy and ribs too sore to argue the point.

He gave her one whole day and a half of resting and then returned to work, Amita rolling her eyes and pursing her lips in disapproval when she saw him dressed for the day, slipping his gun and holster on his belt and palming his badge from the counter.

"Be careful," she said, blocking him at the door from leaving.

"I won't be chasing after suspects any time soon, believe me. I'll let David do all the running." He leaned forward and kissed her, letting it deepen between them despite the twinge of protest from his torso.

"I'll see you tonight," he promised.

"I'm holding you to that."

* * *

He'd had a hell of a day.

He trudged tiredly off the elevator weeks later and down the hall to his apartment. He'd spent the day going through a horrific crime scene and then half the evening with Charlie and his dad, trying to avoid recounting the finer details of the experience.

It was late, and he had had plans with Amita for dinner but he'd had to cancel and she had mentioned working on an article at home for an academic journal she was writing.

Just as well, he reflected with a sigh. He probably wasn't fit for company anyway.

He had just shoved his key in the lock when the door swung open and Amita stood in the doorway.

"You're late," she noted, and leaned against the doorjamb. She held a glass of wine in one hand and crossed her legs at the ankles as she allowed Don to take in the full view.

He didn't know where she bought her negligee but he was going to buy stock in the company, he swore to himself feverishly.

He started at her feet, clad in another pair of sky-high, strappy heels, toes painted a deep plum, and leisurely dragged his eyes upward.

"I heard you had a day," she said, when they eventually pulled themselves from her lacy, barely covered breasts to her eyes. Her hair was long, curly, and like black strands of silk, tousled carefully around her. She took a sip of her wine as she contemplated him. "Thought you could use a pick me up."

Don grinned, eyes lighting up and Amita smiled in return, the corners of her mouth reluctantly stretching into a sexy smirk. She reached out with her other hand and curled her fingers around his jacket and yanked him forward into the apartment. Don kicked the door shut behind him, and wrapped his arms around her, wanting to touch everywhere first, as he fused his mouth with hers.

He broke away reluctantly when they ran out of air.

"But, I don't know. Maybe you wanted to sit and talk about it first?" She asked innocently, trying to catch her breath.

"Later," he growled. "Much later." He kissed her again and began maneuvering her off to the bedroom, bumping into the wall and furniture along the way. They broke apart momentarily when he rammed his hip into a side table, and Amita took the opportunity to pop open the clasp of her bra and let it fall away.

He drank in the sight of her topless, and she curled another sexy smile at him and turned and waltzed the rest of the way to the bedroom, swaying her hips ever so slightly and giving him time to appreciate the back as least as much as the front. He hurried to follow, kicking his shoes off and depositing his duty belt on the table as he passed by.

* * *

He did talk to Amita about work and all its horrors some times. More than he ever talked with Dad, or Charlie, about it. It wasn't the same to say he was exactly chatty when it came to discussing work, but there was some good faith effort on his part to try to connect with her and not shut her out completely.

She was sitting in his kitchen, wearing his shirt from the night before (and not much else, he noted with enthusiasm), as she listened to him recount some of his day from earlier, each eating a cup of yogurt.

"Sounds horrible," she agreed when he finished and he nodded, focused on spooning a blueberry out from the mixture.

"I've had better days," was all he said. She eyed him thoughtfully as she ate another mouthful. "Last night wasn't bad, though," he added appreciatively.

"Glad you liked it," she said, flushing slightly.

"I didn't hear you complaining," he replied, setting his empty cup on the counter beside him and stepping forward to place a kiss in the crook of her neck. Down on her collar bone. Behind her ear. She smiled, dimple showing, and he kissed that, too, as she shook her head.

"Do not," she warned, laughing when he tried to kiss her lips and she turned her head away. "Do not start anything this morning. I have a faculty meeting with the president and I cannot be – Don!" She exclaimed laughing, as she kept trying to avoid him and he kept following. "I can't be late!"

He finally captured her lips.

"We'll see," he mumbled against them.

"No, we will not," she said firmly, jerking her head away defiantly, but then relented at his look and allowed another kiss before she used her hand to push him away. "I mean it! Save it for later," she said. "I have to get ready. I can't look like I spent the night with a rakish FBI agent."

"Rakish?"

"Rogue?" She said as she stood and moved around him.

"Rogue?"

"Irresistible," she added as she stepped away, moving backwards so she could keep an eye on him.

"Hmm," he said, eyeing her carefully.

"Insatiable?" She quipped, glancing behind her and Don started stalking towards her.

"Sexy?" She offered and shrieked and ran when he shot towards her in a burst of speed.

"No Don! I mean it!" She insisted, laughing when he tickled her.

"So you said," he replied. Still, she allowed him a reasonable amount of time to grope her, laughing and shrieking good naturedly before kissing him soundly and Don relented and let her be.

He was still smiling, minutes later, thinking about her as she turned on the shower and he poured a cup of coffee. He flipped through his text messages as he sipped and turned in surprise when someone knocked on his door.

"Donnie?"

Shit. Dad. What was Dad doing here? He usually avoided Don's apartment, well, like Don had avoided his apartment before Amita began staying there.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. Amita.

She was in the shower. He debated on answering when he heard a key turn in the lock and remembered belatedly that Dad had one to his apartment.

He hurriedly moved to intercept his father as the door opened.

"Dad," Don said, trying to block his entry.

"Ah, Donnie, good, you're here. Here, help me with this for a sec, will ya?" His father dumped a paper grocery bag filled with food in Don's arms, forcing him to release his hand hold on the door, but he kept a foot against it, to keep it from opening all the way.

"What are you doing here?" Don said.

"I was afraid I missed you. Here, Donnie, you're in the way," his dad said impatiently, squeezing in and forcing Don to take a step back.

"I was just heading off to work," Don said, dumping the bag on the table.

"I'm glad I caught you. I was worried about you last night. You seemed upset about something, so I thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing, and fix you some breakfast."

"Dad, I already ate."

"What, breakfast?" His dad eyed him skeptically.

"Yes, I had a cup of yogurt. Come on," he said, trying to grab his father's arm and herd him out the door. "I need to get going." He could still hear the faint sounds of the shower running in the bathroom.

"Yogurt is not going to fill you up," his dad admonished.

"I'll have a muffin or something at the office later," Don promised, still trying to push him back out the door.

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Yes," Don said. "I've got to get to work dad, I'm going to be late."

Something clanged loudly against the walls of the shower, like a bottle slipping off the shelf, and Alan looked up.

"Is somebody else here?" He asked and Don stared at him wide-eyed for a moment. "Oh. Ohhh, You got a girl here, huh?"

"Yes," he answered quickly. "Now can you please leave before she sees you?" Or you see her, he thinks, shoving his dad more forcefully towards the exit.

"And here I was thinking you were home alone all night feeling bad," his dad commented wryly. "I should have known," he added, shaking his head.

"Whatever," Don muttered.

"I'll just set the groceries over here on the counter and I guess...you could fix her breakfast. Where'd you meet her?"

"Work. Just leave the groceries where they're at, Dad, I'll get them." Alan paused, hands hovering over the sack, smiling in amusement at his son's plucky response.

"I didn't know you were ...with a girl," he said.

"What do you want me to do, leave a sock on the doorknob next time?" Don retorted. "It's my apartment."

"Right, right. Sorry. You sure you don't want me to —"

"Stay longer? No, dad, I'm positive. Time for you to leave."

"Right," Alan said. "Well, I know when I'm not wanted," he said airily, tone mocking as he glanced around, trying to look for some clue as to who this mystery woman might be. Likely he would never meet her, given his son's usual dating patterns. Still, something about the apartment seemed different, and he scrutinized the space more closely.

"Great. Bye."

Usually it was pretty spartan, devoid of much personality, but it looked a little more lived in than the last time he'd saw it, which was admittedly quite a while ago. Maybe after three years Don had just finally got around to settling in.

"Did you do something different?" Alan asked, waving his hand around.

"No," Don said, but there was something with how quick the response was that made Alan take a second look. There was, yes, definitely…definitely was a woman's touch here and there. Was that a vase of flowers by the sink? He moved to peer closer when Don caught his arm again.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Alan relented, allowing Don to guide him away, still taking in the details, eyes registering a knapsack and notebook with some equations scribbled in it on the table by the sack of groceries.

He stopped short, Don abruptly stopping as well in surprise at the sudden lack of movement on his part.

Alan bent slowly forward, looking closely, something registering at the back of his mind, creeping forward steadily.

"That bag looks familiar," he said, glancing at Don and Don shrugged nonchalantly. "I've seen it before."

"I'm sure lots of people have a bag like that."

"Is she a student?" He asked suspiciously, wondering if his son had decided to get his rocks off with a twenty-something intern.

"No, dad, come on. It's just a bag."

Yes, but he'd seen it recently, hadn't he? Where?

"Amita. Amita has a bag like that," Alan said, remembering, glancing at Don and then taking another longer, second look when he registered something that flickered briefly in his son's usually unflappable expression.

He recognized the sound of the shower going, seeming louder now, than it was before. Looked at the equations again, the papers stacked around it. Picked one up, squinting without his reading glasses.

"Don," he said slowly. "Is that Amita's bag?"

He could never directly tell a lie to his father's face. He'd done so twice in his lifetime, both with disastrous results and had learned the hard way that it was better to avoid a direct question if at all possible so as not to be forced into a direct answer, and worse, a direct lie. He'd gotten very skilled at half-truths and equivocation and other avoidance measures.

Still the truth was written on his face when he looked at his father, opening his mouth to try and talk his way around the inevitable correct conclusion his father had come to.

His father tossed the paper down and turned more fully to look at him.

"Is it?"

Don closed his mouth, and debated for a long moment internally on the pros and cons of telling the truth or giving his father the lie he desperately wanted to say and erase the look of disapproval that was settling in his father's eyes. But lie now and then, what? Risk it snowballing even further when his dad discovered that's what he had done. After a minute, he nodded reluctantly.

"Yes, it's hers," he managed to say.

Alan stared in disbelief at his older son for another moment longer, then turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

He tried, but he knew he couldn't avoid his father forever. After he told Amita what had happened, he drove into work, half expecting his father to storm into the office and demand answers. Lecture him. Yell at him. Or maybe there was a part of him that half-hoped. The silence he was met with was even more damning than the look his father had given him in the apartment when he realized what was going on.

It went on for three days before he decided it was better to confront his father's anger on his terms, at the house, than have it show up unexpectedly again somewhere else. Plus, he'd told Charlie he'd drop off some case files for him to study.

He parked his car, took a deep breath and strode into the house from the front door, finding his father seated at the dining table, doing a crossword puzzle.

"Oh, hey, um, I'm looking for Charlie," Don said, faltering for a moment before striding purposefully into the room, intent on passing by his father on his way to the garage. It looked like his dad was going to let him, not acknowledging Don's presence at all, until he was nearly to the kitchen when he spoke.

"So how long have you and Amita been having an affair?"

Don froze, fingers pressing lightly on the swinging door. He straightened and turned to look at his father.

"We're not having an affair."

Alan looked up at Don over the top of his glasses.

"Your brother knows about it?"

Don said nothing.

"I didn't think so," Alan said. "What the hell were you thinking, Don?" His father demanded, laying the paper aside. "He's your _brother._ You know how he feels about her."

"They're not even going out, Dad."

"Do you think that matters? I expect better from you, Don."

"Well, I'm sorry, I'm human," Don spat out with far more anger than either he or Alan were expecting. He didn't realize how upset _he _was over the situation, feeling like no matter what he did there was no good way to turn. He was disappointing somebody. Most of all, himself, and he hated that he had put himself in the situation, that Charlie had made it into a situation, because it was Amita involved.

He was tired of fighting the constant guilt over feeling good whenever he was with her. Was being together really that wrong when they were that happy? He was sick of the sense that it was wrong – selfish - for him to actually consider his own happiness, and worse still, to put it first, above Charlie's.

After decades of putting everyone's wants and needs above his own, the job first, why did it have to be considered so selfish of him to want something for himself? To want Amita?

He knew he had no right, and every right, to feel angry about this.

"So, was that the first time?"

Don found the insinuation inexplicably insulting.

"That's none of your business," Don said, moving forward again and Alan leapt up from his chair to follow him.

"The hell it's not. I'll ask again. How long has this been going on, Don? Behind your brother's back? Behind everyone's back? Don!" his father shouted, when Don didn't stop. He finally halted, diverting quickly to stop at the fridge and pull a beer out of it. He slowly turned, glowering at his father.

"Answer me, Don."

"I don't know," Don snidely shot back. " A while."

"A while? What does that mean?" Alan asked, eyebrows raising. "A month?" Don snorted and Alan stared at him, almost not recognizing him.

"Two?" His dad ventured, with no little surprise.

"Try eight," Don said, giving him a dark look. Longer than that, really, he reflected, but it had been almost nine months since their first official date, and he didn't think they needed to get into all the stuff that went on for weeks and weeks before that was also behind everyone's back.

"Eight!" His dad echoed in shock.

"Actually, I guess it's been more like nine." Don added, almost like an afterthought. He was perversely satisfied, despite the gravity of the topic, to render his father mute for a moment. He wasn't helping his case any. It was worse, that it had gone on so long, even though the fact that it had evolved into something serious, and long-term, had to be better than some short fling and meaningless sex.

"This – this has been going on for the better part of a year?"

Don said nothing else while he twisted the cap off viciously. He met his father's eyes and nodded, Alan huffing a breath of disbelief.

"A year?! You've been having an affair with Amita for - "

"Neither one of us is married," Don cut in irritably. "She never even went with Charlie, except for that one date. We're not having an _affair_," he added derisively, obviously not liking the term.

"Does anyone besides me know you've been seeing each other?" When Don didn't answer Alan pressed his point. "So what else would you call it, Don?"

"A private relationship," he said quietly. "A good one."

Alan paused, wanting to lay into Don, but was pulled up short by the confession.

"How good can it be when all you're doing is sneaking around all the time, trying to pretend you're not in one, Don?"

"We're not _sneaking around_. We go out and do things as a couple all the time. We just don't flaunt the fact we're together. And we wouldn't even have to worry about that if we thought Charlie might react within reason to our being together," Don complained.

"You really think it's unreasonable to think he won't be upset when he finds out you're the one who's been going around behind his back for the better part of a year with Amita. If you're doing nothing wrong, Don, then why did you hide it?"

"Charlie!" Don yelled.

Alan scoffed.

"You both are going to have a lot to answer for," Alan said and Don's mouth flattened into a grim line. "Come on, Don. You knew the moment you and Amita decided to pursue this-this-_relationship_, knowing how he felt about her, how this was likely to turn out."

"You're right," Don announced sardonically. "I should have just bowed out gracefully. If he can't have her then none of us can, right? Even if _she_ wants the other one? I'm sorry, I forgot Charlie was the center of the universe. I need to remember my place. Guess I'm a little out of practice," he continued snidely. "What was I thinking, that he, or _anyone_, might be happy for us, if he realized it was serious."

"I expected better out of one of my sons, Don," Alan said sternly.

"Well, at least it was from the one you knew better than to expect too much out of, right? I mean, no surprise I was the one who made a disappointing decision there. Got a whole history of it, after all. I mean, we only have to look at my decision to join the FBI to see a troubling pattern of behavior here, don't we?"

"That's enough, Don."

"Is it?" Don asked and moved away from his father.

"She liked your brother, Don."

"She likes both of us, just one a lot more than the other. She chose to try something romantic with Charlie and it didn't work. They're not compatible as a couple."

"But you two are?" Alan said skeptically and Don rolled his eyes and shook his head, sipping from his beer. "What brought you two together?"

"Work. Charlie. We're around each other all the time. She consults on cases."

If so, how had Charlie missed his brother and the girl he loved developing a relationship right under his nose?

He sighed. He knew how. So focused on numbers, he'd failed to see when Amita had checked out of his world and into Don's.

And Don…Alan shook his head. Had Don even tried to deflect what was happening? He asked.

"Hey, he had his chance, he asked her out, they went on a date, and it was by both of their accounts a disaster. We're consenting adults, we're both single, despite whatever archaic notion you may have about Charlie interests eliminating Amita from the dating pool, and we actually have a lot in common."

"She should have never been in your dating pool, Don!"

"I can't help the way we feel about each other."

"Do you love her, Don?"

Don looked away, taking another long leisurely sip of his beer, making Alan want to swipe it out of his hand before meeting his father's eyes again. He slowly lowered the beer and shrugged. The movement was jerkier and not as nonchalant as he was trying to pull off.

"Yeah, I think do," he said quietly. "Not that it matters, huh? I don't know. We're trying to take things slow and figure it out, you know. It's one of the reasons we didn't want to say anything. What if it did go south? Why get everyone upset if it didn't work out, and we dated and broke up, or it just fizzled out?"

"Does she love you?" Alan asked suddenly, wondering if the feeling was mutual between them, or if Don was pining after a girl who was perhaps settling for second best when her first choice hadn't lived up to her expectations?

"Yeah," Don replied, eyes crinkling in an almost smile before he remembered himself.

"How long do you intend to continue to conduct this little experiment before you admit it might be working out, Don?

Don shrugged again.

"Are you living together?"

Don shook his head. "We spend a lot of time together but no, we're not living together." That sounded like one of son's typical, equivocal responses. He remembered his sense of his son's apartment, how it seemed change; the feminine touches he detected about the place.

"Well, how often does she stay over?"

"I don't know," Don said irritably. "As often as she wants. As often as both our work allows. Quite often, okay?"

"So does she have a key?"

"What's with the third degree?"

Alan shrugged, and waited.

"Yes, she does, and so do you. Might I ask for it back?" He added pointedly.

"Does Charlie have one?" Alan asked in alarm.

"No, he usually borrows yours and honestly, I can't think of the last time he came over and let himself in unannounced. It's been maybe since right after mom died. And usually, I'm here at some point during the day or week," Don added.

Alan nodded, and noted the careful steps Don had undertaken in carrying on his affair with Amita. Nothing was changed too much, or too abruptly to elicit attention, but Alan had noticed a steady quest to be alone in the evenings and most weekends he'd wondered about. He'd suspected a girl, and Don hadn't really denied it when he'd hinted about it, but the changes were subtle, and weren't alarming enough to concern him. As Don pointed out, he usually stopped by the house, sometimes for dinner, sometimes to watch a game, sometimes just passing through on his way home from work, and he still sometimes spent the night at the house, not his apartment, crashing after a long day only to get up early again the next morning.

Amita, too, had played it cool for months now. Never letting on that when she left Alan and Charlie's she was probably going home to Don. He suddenly realized they were very careful not to put themselves in a situation where they were together with others around them, where both of their behavior could be observed at the same time. He couldn't remember the last time both Don, Amita, and Charlie had been in the house at the same time, and he realized he'd just chalked it up to the fact that Charlie and Amita were now and forever by her decree just friends, and that's why they saw less of her.

Perhaps that was so, but still, it had all been by design, too coincidental to be anything but.

"You need to talk to Charlie, Don. This can't go on like this any longer than it has, and I'm not going to cover for you."

"I didn't ask you to."

"You owe him an explanation, Don."

"I know," Don said. "I'll tell him."

"When?"

"Soon, okay? I'll tell him soon."

"Good, he should be back any time," Alan said, relieved. "He's not here," he added at Don's quizzical look. He frowned at a flicker of emotion he saw pass over Don's face.

"Well, I can't wait around, unfortunately. Here, give him these, will ya?" Don said, pointing to the files he'd dropped on the foyer table when he came in. "And tell him I stopped by looking for him."

"You better not put this off."

* * *

He could tell by the way Charlie went about his day over the next week that Don hadn't said anything.

But when Amita came over to help with one of Charlie's equations, he knew that Don had told her Alan knew about them. He couldn't help the disappointed stare he leveled at her, wasn't sure what to say at all about the situation their behavior had put everyone in. How he felt about her and Don together. He had always liked Amita. Wasn't sure if what they had was enough to justify the mess they were causing. She met his gaze, dark eyes pensive, and he could tell she wanted to say something to him, the moment she could find some time alone.

He didn't give her the opportunity. He stayed away, letting Charlie and Amita work in the dining room, while he piddled around upstairs and read the newspaper and went to bed early. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to tell Don he said hi when he bid them goodnight but he kept his mouth firmly closed and as he turned away and made his way upstairs.

* * *

"Larry, hi," Alan said in surprise when he opened his front door the following week. "What brings you by? I thought Charlie was with you."

"He's with Don," Larry said, moving about slowly, catatonically almost.

_Finally,_ Alan hoped. Maybe they could all start working through this mess.

"Okay. Well, is there something I can help you with?"

Larry nodded, hand going to his mouth, as his fingers fretted his bottom lip.

"I need your advice," Larry began.

"Okay, sure. What about it?"

"Last night was the Physics department's faculty dinner," he started.

"Oh, okay?"

"It's a big soiree with a nice meal, and drinks, and everyone gets to meet everyone, and well…"

"And?"

"Well, you know Amita's a part of the physics staff as well?"

"Amita? Uh, yeah, I think Charlie said she was pursuing a second PH.D in…what was it?"

"Astrophysics."

"Right, that was it."

"She's very talented – I think she's going to do amazing things in the field, and there's quite a few in the Physics department that are impressed with her work."

"I can imagine," Alan said, wondering what he was getting at.

"Given she's so talented in that field, it was a little shocking to discover who she was with all evening."

Alan felt his stomach sink, but said nothing.

"She brought Don."

"Oh."

"As her date." Larry added, looking at him in concern.

"Oh."

"And I'm not sure how to bring it up to Charlie, because I don't think he knows about it yet, but I think someone he knows should tell him before he just finds it out from some random faculty member or grad student or something."

Yes, that someone should be Don, Alan thought in frustration. Maybe he was doing that now?

"Don't get me wrong, they conducted themselves impeccably, but the weird thing is…they looked _very_ comfortable together."

"Hm," Alan said.

"I mean, looking at them, if you didn't know them, I mean, yeah, you would almost, you know, think they're a couple. They're very attractive together. Very…in tune with one another."

"Hm," Alan said again.

"I kind of got the impression that maybe it wasn't, you know...the first time they've been out together like that. I mean, I know they've known each other for a while, but the whole thing, it was very…couply."

Larry stared at Alan for a moment, waiting for him to dispute his observation.

"Are-are they a couple?"

"Larry, you're right. I think someone needs to tell Charlie about it and explain what went on." Larry nodded slowly, still looking at Alan. "I don't however, think it should be you."

"Oh, thank God," Larry breathed.

"Or me," Alan added. "In fact, I know just the person."

* * *

"So, I hear you and Amita were a hit at the physics department faculty dinner," Alan said accusingly the second Don walked in the door.

Don paused in hanging up his jacket and eyed his father warily. He had attended the dinner at Amita's request, their first foray into sharing in each other's work functions. She had given him one of her shy, soft, pleading looks, when she had asked, and he'd hesitated, wondering if it was wise to do so at the university where Charlie worked, where everyone knew Charlie and more than he was comfortable with knew Don as a result, but he had ultimately agreed. Word was sure to get back to his brother, eventually, but he still hadn't found a good way to bring up his relationship with Charlie and was thinking maybe it was time to force the issue.

He had spent the night hobnobbing with academic crowd and found most of them tolerable, and some even enjoyable, enough so to suffer through for her without complaint. She had made it easier on him, too, by looking like a knockout in that shiny green, satin dress she wore on their first date, and black pumps. While they both generally didn't engage in huge public displays of affection, it wasn't unheard of either in certain settings, and they did so last night with Don enjoying the fact that as her date, he was free to put his arm around her waist, share in a smile or to, and stand as close to her as he wanted.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"Oh, Larry stopped by earlier today."

"Oh," Don said. Larry. Yes, he'd been at that dinner. Thankfully, Megan hadn't since he had no doubt she'd determine what was going on in a second.

"Yeah, he was worried that somehow Charlie would hear the news from someone other than his brother that said brother had been Amita's date. I take it you still haven't told him."

He should have known Charlie would take that moment to come into the house. He caught Alan's last sentence as he stepped in the foyer and closed the front door.

"Told who what?" Charlie asked curiously. "Why are you yelling?"

"I'm not yelling."

"You're talking really loud."

"I just wasn't sure if your brother heard me," Alan said and Don gave his father a flat look. "Since it seemed like he didn't before," he added pointedly.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Alan raised his eyebrows at Don, daring him to answer.

"The faculty dinner last night in the physics department," Don said, somewhat reluctantly.

"Yeah, what about it? Wait, how'd you know about that?"

"Amita asked me to go," Don replied more steadily. He shot another look at his dad on his way to grab a beer.

"What?" Charlie said in surprise, looking back at Don as he attempted to hang his coat up. He let go of it, thinking it was hooked on the peg and it dropped on the floor unnoticed by his foot.

"Amita asked _you_?"

"Yeah," Don said disappearing into the kitchen. Charlie stared at the swinging door, waiting for his brother to reappear.

"Why?" he called.

"She didn't to go alone."

"So, you-you went?" Charlie asked when he returned.

"Yeah," Don said again.

"Oh. You're kidding, right? You must have been so bored," Charlie said, trying for a laugh.

"It was all right," Don said. "Not nearly as bad as I anticipated."

"It's just…why would she ask you to go? Why not ask me? Or someone else in the Physics department." Charlie continued.

"Yeah, why Don?" Alan added pointedly. "Maybe it would help if you _explained_ it to him."

"Okay, you said that really weird," Charlie noted, looking at his dad.

"Thanks, dad," Don muttered.

"I'm just saying," Alan defended, and Don rolled his eyes, before fixing his eyes on his brother and taking a deep breath.

"I was her date," Don told him.

"Yeah, I get that. What I just don't get is _why_ you were her date. You're not really the type of guy she'd date, much less bring to a faculty dinner to socialize with all her peers and professors in physics," Charlie continued, and Don's expression darkened considerably. "Plus, I thought, if anyone, she'd take that guy she's been seeing. Did she tell you if they broke up?"

"You better tell him, Don."

"Tell me what?"

"It's been two weeks," his father added disapprovingly and Don shot him another look. "You said you would talk to him."

"I've been a little busy, dad, with work."

"And going to dinners with Amita, apparently," his dad remarked. "Tell him."

Don glanced at Charlie who was following the conversation between Don and his father with his eyes. He looked at Don carefully.

"Why would you be busy with Amita? Dinners? I mean, it was just one faculty dinner. Right? Is that what he's talking about?"

Charlie glanced at his dad for an answer when Don didn't immediately respond, then flicked his eyes back to Don questioningly when he found his father's stern gaze locked on his older son.

"What exactly do you have to tell me?"

Don blew a breath out his mouth in a loud sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Amita and I have been seeing each other."

He waited for Charlie to say something, but Charlie just stared at him. Laughed after a moment, clearly thinking Don was trying to put one over him.

"Seriously?" He asked when Don just stared back. "Wh-wh-what?"

"We've been seeing each other," Don repeated.

"What?" Charlie said, looking like he misheard him. He started shaking his head.

"For a while now."

"What?" He said louder.

"We were going to tell you…_I _was going to tell you, but it just never seemed the right time," Don continued as Charlie stared at him in growing horror.

"Wha-what?"

"I'm the non-university guy she's been spending all her free time with."

"WHAT?"

He looked at his dad, expecting him to be in on the joke, the terrible joke, but he just looked grim, too. He whipped his eyes back to Don in disbelief.

"You can't be, I mean, she's been going with that guy forever," Charlie said. "I was starting to think he was made up, no one's ever seen him."

"He's not. You're looking at him," Don said grimly.

"How? How?—" and that's all he really wanted to know, but what came out was, "How, how long?"

"Nine months now," Don said, after a moment where he looked like he debated whether to answer.

"Nine months, Nine mo— NINE months?"

Charlie stared at Don in shellshocked disbelief. He wanted to believe his brother was lying, but even as he was making arguments that Don couldn't be right, his math was off, his brain was filling in the blanks he'd had ever since noticing Amita's change in behavior. Arrived at a number at least that long.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Don began.

"You didn't tell me at all," Charlie cut in, still staring.

"I tried to," Don defended.

"No. You didn't. You went around behind my back and pursued a relationship with her, telling me to forget about her, that things weren't going to work, that she wasn't interested," Charlie began, recounting their conversations, few though they were, about the topic. A new understanding as to why Don had been reluctant to discuss her.

"She wasn't. It didn't. You went on one date and even you admitted it was awful and you might just be better as friends."

"How convenient for you to agree," Charlie remarked sardonically. "She wasn't interested in me because she was interested in you. How typical," Charlie said bitterly.

"I can't help it how she feels about either of us, Charlie. She's perfectly capable of making up her own mind and doing what she wants."

"And you're perfectly capable to help her along with that decision, right?"

"I'm sorry, Charlie."

"Yeah, I bet you are," Charlie retorted.

Charlie caught a glimpse of his father's anguished face and glanced between his brother and dad.

"Did you know about this?" Charlie demanded, recollecting how this whole conversation got started. Alan shook his head, but Don answered.

"No, dad didn't know about us. We didn't really tell anyone."

"Because you wanted it kept secret from me," Charlie accused.

"We didn't want to say anything until we were sure about how we felt about one another."

"How you _felt about one another?"_

"I found out a couple of weeks ago, Charlie," Alan confessed.

"A couple of – you've known its been going on for that long and didn't say anything?"

"It wasn't my responsibility to tell you," Alan said. "It was your brother's and I told him to tell you as soon as possible."

"I see you made that a priority."

"It's not like that Charlie," Don said.

"Oh? What's it like, then?"

"I got a hundred other things going on, not the least of which is a case to solve."

"Work and living a secret life with Amita must be exhausting," Charlie agreed, and Don had the good grace to finally look abashed.

"I knew how'd you take it," Don said quietly. "And I was trying to put that off for as long as possible, I guess."

"How I'd take it," Charlie repeated slowly, bitterly. "Well Don," Charlie said in the same tone. "I think I took it pretty well, don't you? I mean, my brother just told me he and the girl I've loved for the last three years have been having an affair right under my nose for almost a year and why would I take that as anything but good news? I bet you two had some good laughs, right? I mean, self-proclaimed boy genius completely oblivious to his brother shtupping his grad student behind his back."

"_Former_ grad student," Don said.

"Yeah that makes all the difference," Charlie retorted.

"Charlie," he heard his dad say.

He winced, the image of it just hitting him, a physical pain, as he realized his brother and Amita were sleeping together. Had to be. Don slept with anything of the opposite sex that moved, and usually in short order. He wondered how long it had taken them to fall into bed together. Knew Amita had been drawn to Don from the get go in the same way all women were drawn to that something they imagined in his brother – the dark, dangerous, and elusive vibe he exuded.

Wondered how much Don had capitalized on that infatuation.

"You took advantage of her."

"No, I didn't," Don retorted.

He shook his head, not wanting to admit his brother might be right, that worse, maybe Amita had taken advantage of Don and not the other way around. If she wanted something bad enough, she could be determine to get it. Had likely not refused any interest Don expressed in her. She was always flattered when Don paid her any attention. Hadn't thought too much of it because, again, Don flirted with anything of the opposite sex that moved, and that especially showed interest, and it seemed to be more of a fun exercise he did with women than anything else. Besides he thought, given her brilliance, Amita would realize that and not take Don's behavior too seriously. She should be interested in someone more like him, who was more on her intellectual level.

Which wasn't to say his brother was an idiot, far from it, but…God, how had he misread the situation so badly between them all?

"I'm sorry Charlie, but we're together because we both want to be. We didn't expect we'd feel this way about each other."

Charlie shook his head more insistently, trying to drown out his brother's voice.

Did that mean they were in love? He wondered. Was that what his brother was trying not to say. He'd never known his brother when he was in a long-term relationship before. His time with Kim was by all accounts at least a few years spent together, but it was done without ever bringing it to Charlie's attention and so he'd never seen his brother with a woman he'd been with for longer than just a couple of months. Wasn't sure now if it wasn't like it always was with Don. You saw what he wanted you to see. Usually, he only realized his brother was seeing someone usually after the fact, case in point. Had no idea what it looked like when his brother was in love.

They had been so careful, he realized, to make sure to limit their time together in the presence of others, especially him.

How much time and effort did they expend sneaking around?

It wasn't much effort on his brother's part, he supposed. Don had always kept his movements low-key and off the grid, so to speak. He had honed that particular talent growing up, helped along by an unwitting younger brother captured everyone's attention on him, and two frazzled and overwhelmed parents who were focusing their time and attention navigating the ins and outs of raising such an exceptional child, not Don. Don had learned early how to deflect attention away from him, whenever anyone chose to remember he existed.

Kept everyone at arms' length, especially family, and wondered how Amita was faring in that regard. Did Don let her in, when he kept everyone else out?

He opened his eyes again and stared at his brother. Saw his mouth moving but fortunately his mind only registered a dull sound, not words.

Heard a dull pop and felt a dull pain, and saw his brother clutching his now bloody nose, and Charlie realized he was clutching his hand, his knuckles throbbing and Dad was yelling at them both.

"Ow! Charlie! I think you broke my nose!"

"You deserved that," he heard his dad say.


	4. Chapter 4

After dad wrapped his hand, and gave Don some ice and tissue for his nose (it turned out to _not_ be broken, lucky for Charlie, Don thought), he and Don didn't speak to each other for weeks. As the soreness and bruising wore off, Don tried, but Charlie either hung up on him if he deigned to answer one of his calls, or avoided him altogether. Charlie tried as hard to avoid Amita, but it was more difficult with her since they worked in the same academic department together, saw each other at meetings, and shared an office.

He didn't appreciate her attempts to try and trick him to come to the phone, finding Don on the other end of the line, or her attempts to try to explain away their behavior. Made reasonable sounding arguments as to the pros and cons of each brother.

He was smugly pleased to detect some friction between Don and Amita, too.

It looked like there was trouble in paradise now that he knew, and the few times he'd been forced to interact with them at all, the handful of times when they'd been called to the FBI - not by Don, but Megan, David, and even the new guy, Colby, and Charlie could tell Don's team all knew something was up, and he was only too happy to allude to the questionable comradery between Don and Amita - he'd also been only too happy to notice Amita was short with Don. She had been short-tempered, period, and Charlie wasn't sure what right she had to be mad about the situation.

Don, however, knew what Amita was mad about. It had been a recurring fight in the course of their relationship: his reluctance to talk to Charlie about what was going on between him and Amita. It wasn't like they never fought - there had been other minor spats, things that kept them, at most, apart for a night, two maybe, but usually Charlie, unwittingly, was at the center of them. A couple of times they had almost ended it, the situation seeming so impossible, before admitting that neither wanted to, each feeling the pull of attraction to the other, the desire to feel the relationship out, and fine, so they could admit it, the lurid and amazing sex. It was a vicious cycle. They would ignore the issue for a while, until one or other them tired of hiding the relationship, and it would flare up, only to be tamped down by guilt and fear.

It was a no-win situation no matter what, even Amita had to grudgingly admit that. Whether they had told him in the beginning or even a year from now, Charlie was going to be upset and hurt. There had been the argument that maybe if Charlie could see that it wasn't just some sordid fling, that it was a serious, long-term relationship, that he might come to accept what was going on. There had also been the pragmatic discussion of whether whatever was between could last long term, and develop into something serious, and even if it did, what would that look like? A few months? A year? A lifetime? They didn't know and it had been discussed between them that maybe it was best they didn't say anything, risk the heartache for Charlie and everybody else peripherally involved, if whatever was going on fizzled out. They could nurse the wounds alone, without having to deal with the knowledge they had caused Charlie or anyone else pain for nothing.

Amita had tried to explain all this several times as she and Charlie crossed paths at CalSci, before Charlie had walked out on her one day in the office. Hearing all the logical arguments that had gone into it, and worse, that his beloved Amita had been party to hiding what had been going on between her and Don, _suggested _some of it, further demonstrated how well she had helped to orchestrate events in her and Don's relationship. As much as he wanted to lay the blame for everything at Don's feet, he had to admit that Amita was just as responsible as well. Charlie had lashed out at her, realizing she had followed him to the classroom, thankfully empty of students and witnesses to this spectacle.

She didn't appreciate his insinuation that it was all about sex, she and Don seeking the thrill that came of a conducting a relationship in secret.

"It isn't like that. He loves me, Charlie!" she had yelled.

Charlie had scoffed, but a bolt like an arrow had gone through his chest at the declaration. Don had hinted as much, but he had never explicitly said he did, and Charlie wondered if it was true, that Don really did love Amita. That Amita loved him. That they were _in_ love. _Of course_, Don would fall in love with the one woman that was perfect for Charlie.

He responded childishly, hurt that it worked so easily with his brother (like everything with his brother) and her, and not with him. Wondered aloud at his brother's lack of interest in higher academia beyond how it helped his work with the FBI, his inability to be able to understand her work, and how it would ever work when their focuses were so different.

"He doesn't need to understand it at the same level you do, Charlie, and anyway even if he isn't a math prodigy that doesn't mean he's stupid. He understands enough, he understands that it's important to me and he supports me. But more importantly - he understands that not all that I am. I'm not something that can and wants to be boiled down to just a bunch of numbers. There's more to me than math or science. I'm not just something that you can put in some-some-impersonal equation."

"I know that," Charlie said quickly, stunned.

"They're not the only interests I have."

"What else interests you? Besides my brother?" Charlie said sarcastically.

She glared hotly at him.

"Music, and - and - travel, and I like playing sports sometimes, or going to games. Just doing something fun like dancing, even if I'm not very good at it, because it feels good. I mean, just stupid things, that don't have any reason or logic or equation behind it. Sometimes I don't want to think everything to death. I want to know I'm not invisible, or second place to a chalkboard filled with numbers."

It felt like censure, what she'd said. That Charlie was lacking in some ability that, of course, Don had been blessed with in spades.

"You're not second-"

"Yes, Charlie, I am. Sometimes you barely even remember I'm here."

"He's never going to get you, like I do," Charlie said lowly. "His understanding of what you do, what you're capable of, ends - if you're lucky - at college algebra and he probably doesn't even remember any of that. How is he ever going to fully appreciate how brilliant –" he paused, overcome with emotion, "brilliant you are, the way I do, because he can't ever truly _know_. He doesn't get that level of genius."

"He understands I'm more than just a brain, Charlie."

"I'm sure."

"Stop it. I'm sorry that our being together has hurt you, but I'm not going to stop seeing him just because you can't deal with it. If you were any kind of friend at all, you would accept my decision to have a relationship with him."

"What about you? A _friend_ wouldn't go after my brother. And while we're on this subject, maybe a _brother_ wouldn't go after with the woman he's interested in."

"He didn't go after me, Charlie. And I can't help how I feel about him. And we did - we tried to stay away from each other. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"Yeah, you have no self-control, either of you."

She'd thrown his eraser at him and stormed out of the empty classroom.

After that, he definitely avoided her and refused to be stuck alone with her, necessitating some clever maneuvering on his part when they had to work together on FBI cases.

Charlie had initially refused working with his brother, but his brother had anticipated him. Sent one of his team to present the case and any findings and Dad had piled on by pointing out how many innocent people could be suffering by not helping Don solve it faster. Another thing Don could feel guilty for, or should, Charlie thought spitefully.

He'd taken to punishing Amita since then, giving her the shit teaching assignments and leaving her hanging on research for Don, assuming she already knew, so she wasn't always clued in on what he was currently working on. Ignoring her, and in general just treating her like crap.

Something Don had taken notice of when Amita came late to one of the meetings, having only just realized minutes earlier that her presence was needed and requested and entirely unprepared.

Don had cornered her in the empty conference room later and demanded to know what was going on.

She was still peeved at Charlie and how he'd made her look incompetent and paced angrily in the space as Don listened to her rant about everything she'd been dealing with and trying to talk about over the last few weeks.

Charlie had caught of glimpse of them together before he'd left, a surge of satisfaction at seeing her and Don at odds with one another. Thought it served his brother right, maybe both of them, to have this illicit affair blow up in their faces. Ignored the fact given Amita's vehement defense of his brother, she would likely be hurt. He'd worry about it later, if he worried about it all.

Maybe it would be his chance to show her how wrong she'd been about Don and how he, Charlie, was right for her.

He'd forgive her. Eventually.

Maybe.

"He said I found a way to sneak around behind his back with you for nine months it should be easy to find my own way to your office, and that he guessed I did that all the time anyway," she said, her arms moving erratically as she talked. "I didn't even know you were having a meeting until he texted me that he was already here and everyone was waiting on me."

Don's mouth flattened in a thin line, his irritation with his brother flaring.

"I'm getting a little sick and tired of his behavior," Don said from his spot leaning back against a table where he watched her pace, arms crossed over his chest, expression pissed. "He has no right to keep treating you this way."

"You know I put up with it for a few weeks because, yeah, honestly? I thought maybe I deserved it a little. I mean, I'm not proud of how we did what we did, and for how long, but I don't regret it, Don. I'm not going to break up with you just because he's mad we're together. I mean, what's his logic? He can't have me, so I can't have anyone?"

"Anyone by the name of Eppes," Don said.

"Well fuck him and the horse he rode in on," Amita spat and Don raised his eyebrow in surprise and faint amusement. "I mean, he hasn't looked at this from any other point of view than his own."

"It's hard to fault him on that," Don replied.

"He and I, we don't work! Not in that capacity. Not like you and I. As far as I'm concerned, he's only proving I made the right decision in choosing to pursue something with you. He hasn't shown that he cares one iota for what my feelings are. Why do I want to be with someone who runs roughshod over them? If he honestly cared about me at all, he'd see how happy I was with you and be glad I found someone who made me feel this way."

"Again, it's hard to fault him on that," Don said.

"Are you on his side or ours?" She asked irritably. Don held up his hands in supplication.

"Is there a side in all this?"

"Yes, the I've grown-tired-of-his-attitude-and-we've-done-enough-penance-and-asked-for-enough-forgiveness side. How long do you think you should be punished for what you've done?" She asked him. "What is it exactly you've done that is so wrong? Fell in love with the wrong girl? Someone that happened to be the same girl he was interested in? Was that something you really had control over?"

"I shtupped his grad student for months without telling him. His words. And yes, also according to him."

"I'm his former grad student. And why is so bothered by that fact? It's not he could have had a relationship with me anyway. The university frowns upon fraternization, not to mention what that could have done to my career. Or his. And don't I get any say in this?"

Don sighed. "Of course you do. And I'm sure he's thinking as long as you're willing to break the rules to be with me, than why not break the ones about fraternizing."

"The rules?" She echoed.

"Look, it's a brother thing. Think of it as a variation of the Bro Code. The rule where you don't go after your brother's girl he's interested in. I should have known better than to pursue something with you when I knew how he felt about you."

"I'm the one who pursued you! Like you even had a choice."

"Yes, you _were_ relentless." Don said, trying not to smile when Amita gave him a look. "Fine, maybe not relentless. You were very persuasive though. Determined. I was powerless to resist."

"I'm trying to be serious, Don."

"So am I."

"And okay, so maybe I wasn't as passive about it as I pictured myself to be, but I wasn't going to take no for an answer."

"That much was obvious."

"I could tell you really didn't want to say no, anyway."

"Again, I was powerless to resist."

She cocked her head to one side. "Be serious."

"Fine, no, I didn't really want to resist, not after you kissed me."

"Which time?"

"All of them."

"Well, anyway, you know what I mean," she said, rolling her eyes, but the dimple in her cheek appeared and her eyes warmed slightly.

"Seriously. Given what he thinks are my obscene abilities to compartmentalize my feelings, he considers the fact that I allowed this to happen the ultimate betrayal."

"So what? If he could have handled the news better we would have told him sooner," she replied, sighing. "I am sorry, about the way we went about it. I wish I could take it back. Maybe never even went on that date with Charlie. I didn't know things weren't going to work out between him and I like that, but that it would work so well with you. Maybe I just regret how long we went about it that way. But I honestly don't know if, in the beginning, if it could have been done it any other way. I know you didn't want to hurt him. I didn't want to hurt him."

"Yeah, well, he's hurting. It's going to take a while before that stops," Don said. She nodded, and bit her lip.

"So, what? We just put up with it? Let him make snide remarks to us every chance he gets? Ignore us? Keep feeling guilty like we did something really wrong? Break up?"

Don sighed and stood and walked towards her. She had finally quit moving around, arms wrapped defensively around her and she looked a little lost. He brushed his hand along her bicep and leaned in to kiss her, a rare display of affection from him at his work. Things were almost always completely professional and distant between them when they were together at the FBI offices, though Charlie had done his level best to involve his team in what was going on.

"No, we'll just give him space for a while longer and then I'll tell him how it's going to be."

* * *

It was Alan though, who'd had enough with both sons' behavior and called a family meeting three days later. Except he didn't call it that.

To Don, it was dinner, and since he knew Don would probably choose dinner with Amita over dinner with his dad at this point, he offered an olive branch and insisted she come, too, and promised that Charlie wouldn't be there when they arrived.

It was time to accept the fact that Don and Amita for the foreseeable future were a couple, and it wasn't that he had condoned everything that had happened, but he loved Don, and he had always like Amita, and he thought it said something interesting that nearly a year later after starting this affair they were still together and appeared to be happy and deeply in love despite the mess they'd created.

To Charlie, he'd called and told him about an hour before Don was schedule to arrive that as his landlord now it was critical he start addressing the plumbing issue with the house.

"Dinner will just be a few more minutes. Go on and make yourselves at home. You know where everything is," Alan called after greeting them. Amita had given him a bottle of wine, and an awkward quick hug, and now she and Don were standing together a little self-consciously in the foyer unsure of how to behave. He decided to give them a little privacy and retreated to the dining room, where he was finishing setting the table. He heard some muffled conversation as Amita whispered something to Don and he witnessed a brief, reassuring smile flash across his older son's face, before he encouraged Amita further into the house. Don followed Amita towards Alan, a hand at the small of her back as he guided her through the rooms. He stepped past her on the way to the kitchen, probably on a quest to retrieve a beer from the fridge.

"You need any help?" she queried hesitantly.

"You uh, you want to finish setting the table?" Alan asked.

"Yeah, absolutely," she said, smiling and Alan got the impression she was relieved to have something to do.

"Smells good, pop," Don said on his way back from the kitchen.

"You better not have been picking at it," Alan warned and Don grinned mischievously and and licked something off his fingers.

"Help Amita finish setting the table," Alan admonished sternly.

"What's to set? You're almost done here."

"We need wine glasses," she said, then frowned when she noticed the beer in Don's hand. "We brought wine." Don smiled winsomely.

"I know."

There wasn't much to observe in the way of signs of affection between them, but they bantered and bickered good-naturedly with one another, and Alan noticed that when Don looked at her he gave her his full attention, eyes locked on her face, smile playing at his lips, and he looked at her often.

"Yes, wine glasses, and we need to set one more place," Alan said and Don looked up sharply.

"For who?" he asked suspiciously.

"Your brother," Alan said. The happy grin Amita was still wearing after she had bestowed one on Don moments earlier faded.

"You said Charlie wasn't going to be here," Don accused.

"When you arrived, I said."

Don narrowed his eyes in disbelief, setting his beer down on the table with a thud.

"You're not the only who can equivocate when it suits him," Alan continued calmly, ignoring the fury in Don's eyes. "Anyway, it's time we all sat down together as a family. Amita, that includes you," he added, since it seemed like her antsy behavior might be indicating she was thinking about leaving them to it.

"Lucky me," she muttered.

"You love one of my sons, you're family. Save it," he added when he noticed Don about express his frustration at being tricked.

"It's not fun at all believing one thing is happening and discovering another is it?" Alan said pointedly. Don gave his dad a gimlet stare. "And I swear, that's the last jab I'm going to make tonight about what happened. If you two are content, than I'm glad you both are happy together, truly," Alan said. "I want you both to feel that you're welcome here. Together. This skulking around has gone on long enough."

"Yeah, well, thanks, dad," Don said gruffly, "but this isn't your house anymore, technically, and I don't think Charlie's going to welcome us as long as he's here."

"Just because your brother owns it doesn't mean I don't still occasionally make the rules in this family. It's my house, too. Charlie's just going to have to get over it."

"Yeah, because that's what he does," Don said sarcastically. Alan fixed him with an unamused stare.

"It's what he's going to do," he said firmly. "I'm not having a repeat of you two fighting on the lawn."

Don privately disagreed, but said nothing. Judging by the look on Amita's face, she didn't think so either.

"Here, here – take a seat and I'll grab the lasagna out of the oven."

"This is going to be a disaster, Don," Amita whispered as she pulled out a chair and slid down despondently in it. "I don't think your dad has any idea how Charlie's been dealing with it with us."

Don nodded grimly, taking the seat beside her, no time to answer her when Alan reappeared again from the kitchen.

"All right, looks good, doesn't it?" Alan said when he came back in carrying a bubbling pan between two oven mitts. The back door slammed just as he was setting it on the table.

"Charlie, is that you?"

"Yeah dad, I'm here. What's the big plumbing emergency that couldn't wait?" His voice trailed off suddenly when he stepped into the dining room and laid eyes on Don and Amita.

"What are _they_ doing here?" Charlie bit out, looking at his Dad accusingly.

"Plumbing emergency?" Don said, eyeing his dad skeptically.

"The sink keeps backing up, but you know what? It'll keep until after dinner," Alan replied smoothly. "Have a seat, Charlie."

"I'm not staying for—"

"Have a seat, Charlie," Alan said in a tone that brooked no argument. _"Now." _He stared Charlie down and Don wondered if he'd grow a pair and test his father's patience. He didn't, reluctantly sitting on the side closest to the sideboard (and the exit, Don couldn't help noting), as far away from everyone as he could manage.

Amita and Don couldn't help a glance between each other as Don pursed his lips.

"Well now we're all here, so now what?"

Alan smiled at everyone from the head of the table and said, "So, let's discuss a few things, shall we?"


	5. Chapter 5

AN: thank you all for the reviews. Hope you all are enjoying. Still feel like the story and characterization is a little stilted and uneven, but maybe I'll get there.

* * *

Grudgingly, a weekly meal was laid out and agreed upon by all parties to attend every Thursday night, so long as Don wasn't actively working a case. Alan had threatened to make both their lives hell if they took advantage of that caveat, or conveniently forgot.

Having proved himself on the field of battle in their youths as a worthy adversary, it wasn't an empty threat, and Alan made no bones about how he intended for them to work through this and make it work as a family.

They did exactly two dinners together as a family before a case wreaked havoc on Don's schedule and Charlie announced he was attending a conference in Denver the following week. Both times conversation was stilted and awkward, and largely initiated by Alan, but both Don and Amita gamely tried to keep up their ends, and by the second dinner Charlie had grudgingly started to participate more.

Charlie didn't want to admit it, but he missed the conversations he often had at home with his father and brother, at dinner or watching TV. Not to mention discussing different topics with Amita while they worked on a theory or algorithm together. He had Larry, of course, and a few other acquaintances he could call upon to talk to about various subjects related to the university, but Larry had Megan, and those others he had a hard time getting close to.

His dad had tried to talk to him, but he was still harboring some resentment towards him for seemingly taking Don and Amita's side in all this and, if not forgiving them, giving them a pass on the whole thing. Which Alan claimed he wasn't but, quote, _punishing Don and Amita until eternity for falling in love with each other seemed excessive_. Even Larry was conflicted about the whole thing: who was right, who was wrong, and what the correct solution was, and worse, he seemed to agree with his dad. In fact, there seemed to be a shared opinion to accept the situation and move on; find someone else.

He'd _had_ someone else, thank you very much.

He'd just blew it with her and Don had swooped in before he could figure out how to salvage it. But, their advice did give him some food for thought. Maybe he could find someone to remind Amita was she was missing.

* * *

"Say that again?"

It was a beautiful evening, a gentle breeze blowing and a balmy eighty degrees with the sun slowly slinking down to the horizon, and Don had suggested they meet up after work for an ice cream cone and walk along Old Towne, enjoying the sights and the evening.

"He wants to go on a double date."

Don quirked his head to the side, watching as she took a moment to lick at her mint chocolate chip, oozing down a waffle cone. She glanced at him with a pointed look, silently telling him it wasn't a joke. Still, maybe she'd misunderstood his brother.

"With us?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"Why? I figured the sight of us together makes him sick."

"I think it's to show us he's moving on with someone else and that he's 'okay with us,'" she replied, making quotes with her fingers.

"Uh-huh," Don said skeptically. "Well, it's about time," he said, continuing with their stroll after a prolonged pause.

"Oh, come on. You don't really think he's 'okay with us'?"

"Obviously. Still maybe going on a date with someone else will remind him you're not the only girl on the planet. Who's his date?"

"He didn't say. You're not actually thinking about agreeing to this, are you? Do you really want me to say yes?"

Don sighed.

"Can we afford to say no?"

"I can think of better ways to spend our Friday night."

Don grinned lasciviously, eyes crinkling.

"I wasn't referring to that," she said shaking her head, a smile playing at her lips. "Or just that," she amended at his mock-wounded look.

"Look, I'm not saying I can, too, but let's do our part for family harmony and give it a shot and hope for the best."

* * *

"What is this place?" Don asked a week later as he strolled along beside Amita from the parking lot. He'd offered her his arm, but she had taken his hand instead, and he had laced their fingers together, after a gentle squeeze. He'd been busy all day, running down leads on their newest case, and hadn't had time to speak to her prior to picking her up for their date. She was the very picture of exotic beauty, wearing a pair of flat, open-toed sandals and a pair of coral capris and a white peasant blouse, hair curly and loose around her face, looking chic and uncomplicated. Don had come straight from the field, running late as usual, still dressed in black jeans and a white button-down shirt with a satin pinstripe. The place in question was a Robin's-egg-blue painted stucco building. It was near the side of town the university was on, and appeared to attract an eclectic crowd.

He was grateful at least he wasn't dressed in a suit and tie, since probably nothing would scream "fed" in this place than wearing one, not that anyone else's opinion mattered on the subject, but he got the distinct impression he might be overdressed in one for this establishment.

"Not sure. Charlie picked it."

"You've never been here?" Amita shook her head. "Where is he?"

"He said he'd be inside. Not too late to back out." She smiled hopefully, dark eyes glittering as he strolled to a stop and turned to her. He gave her a rueful smile.

"Yes, it is. Not only would we be the ones who carried on behind his back for months, but we'd also be the ones who stood him up for dinner. And if he takes that any way remotely like he took the first thing we're in for a _lot_ more needless pain and suffering."

"Ugh, I've suffered enough," she said.

"Exactly."

"This is going to be so awkward, Don."

"Probably." He let go of her hand to slide it around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss, figuring he might as well derive some pleasure from the evening since he suspected she was right. She wrapped her arms around him, one arm mirroring his around his waist, the other around his neck, and she bestowed one of her shy, secret smiles on him. He pulled her tighter against him, reveling in the feel of her against his body, the way she fit against him perfectly, and grinned widely.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to back out?" She asked, returning his smile with a beguiling one of her own, pulling one of her hands away to toy suggestively with the buttons on his shirt.

"Tempting," Don said, smile crinkling his eyes, _sooo tempting, _he thought, before he kissed her again soundly, and released her. "If we both live through tonight, I might consider a heartfelt thank you for your perseverance."

"Hmm," Amita hummed huskily, still playing with his shirt. "Words are cheap," she said sexily, tilting her face up towards his.

"I wasn't planning on some flowery speech," Don replied, grinning again when he saw Amita's smile widen. It _was_ tempting, to forget about anyone else but her for the night. And he knew from experience it was easy, too. Being with her blotted out a lot of things, like good sense one could probably argue. But, he didn't want to break their word to his brother, not after everything he'd broken to have her. He sobered and said, "Come on, let's get this over with."

Amita sighed and resumed her trek beside Don. He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back to propel her forward, pausing to grab the door for her. "It can't be too bad," Don added, noticing an easel at the entrance. "Fifty percent off your appetizer, tonight only," he read enticingly. Amita rolled her eyes.

"This place better serve alcohol, that's all I'm saying."

* * *

Charlie thanked the waiter for the drinks he deposited at their table and smiled nervously at his date as she related some experiment she'd ran years ago. Amita had texted that Don was running late due to work, but that they were on their way and should be there momentarily.

He thought his brother might use work to get out of it; had half-hoped he would, but doubted Amita would show up if Don didn't. He took a sip of his gin and tonic, heavy on the gin, he noted as he tried to avoid making a face at the bitter taste of the alcohol and listened to his date talk about...? Oh, he hadn't been listening.

He tuned back in more closely, realizing she was talking about the semester she spent studying abroad in Japan and he nodded as though he'd been following along all along and took another, longer sip of his drink.

She talked a lot, almost non-stop, and he'd finished the gin and ordered another before she even began to touch her martini. She had two Ph.D's, one in chemistry and the other in bio-engineering. Had just begun working with the math department and Charlie (thanks to Millie) on a project for the military, which was how he came to know her after being introduced to her by Millie at the conference in Denver.

They were seated near the veranda so he spotted Don and Amita coming up the walk as they rounded the building. They were holding hands. It was nothing indecent, but the sight of it still shocked him. He realized it was the first time he'd seen them demonstrate any behaviors that indicated they were a couple. Amita and Don were strolling leisurely along, Don looking at her periodically as they talked, before they came to a stop about a hundred yards away and turned to face each other more fully. After a moment, Don pulled her closer, kissing her, as Amita reciprocated and they embraced more fully, Amita smiling brightly at Don, looking happy in his arms. It was jarring to witness.

She looked completely at ease in his brother's embrace, now a rather intimate one, he thought, for being in such plain view on the street. Charlie wanted to look away, but found his attention frozen on Amita and Don, mind humming subconscious information from all he was witnessing. Don kissed her heatedly again, and then, as though remembering where they were, he loosened his embrace, as Amita remained close, splaying her fingers over his shirt. After a moment he stepped back and they continued to the building, fading from sight momentarily, until they appeared at his table five minutes later, looking more suitably platonic.

The waiter had returned with Charlie's drink just a few moments after they took their seats (next to each other, Charlie noted) and Charlie hurriedly knocked the rest of it back and ordered another as he took Don's and Amita's drink order.

* * *

His brother was shit-faced drunk. It almost would have been amusing except he'd long lost his humor about an hour ago, or, in Charlie's perspective, four and half drinks ago. Amita, too, didn't seem to find it funny and he glanced at her as Charlie rambled on about her running an algorithm for a project he, and his date, were working on.

Where was his date, anyway? She'd disappeared to the bathroom about…well, wasn't it at least fifteen minutes ago?

He frowned, and tried to determine whether that was correct. It was at least one drink ago.

It had started out okay, if a bit clumsily. He hadn't paid any mind to Charlie's alcohol consumption at first, thinking he'd only had a couple drinks, and honestly Don could sympathize with the need to knock a couple back given the evening they were all facing. He'd had one but had declined any others, conscientious he was Amita's ride for the evening and feeling he needed to make sure to keep his wits about him. Amita had had a couple, but she, too, refrained from any excessive intake, perhaps after realizing that Charlie was well ahead of all them put together.

His date never shut up, and between Charlie's inability to do the same, and hers, Don felt his ears were only moments away from bleeding. It also didn't leave much room for anyone else to say anything, although Don soon realized as the night wore on that Charlie chose topics of conversation that purposefully kept him out of it.

Most of it was discussing their research at school, bio-chemistry, some various professors, and Amita's work with computational mathematics.

Of course, a lot of her work had been done for cases for Don, which Amita tried to use to loop Don back into the conversation. She, too, had realized Don was being left out and was slowly getting pissed off about it, if her expression was any indication. Don appreciated the gesture, but he didn't much like to talk about work with most of the people he _did_ know - and in Amita's case, love - and he definitely didn't want to get into the minutiae of some of his cases with someone he didn't.

He kept his answers short, but polite, and Charlie masterfully recaptured everyone's attention away from him. Don felt Amita's hand sooth over his knee a couple of times and squeeze it, trying to stop it from jiggling in agitation.

After the second hour, even Charlie's date had started to quiet, as Charlie dominated more and more of the conversation. She had excused herself from the table, claiming she needed to freshen up and that was the last Don had seen of her.

He got the feeling it might be the last Charlie had, too.

He rolled his head to Amita, quirking a brow at her and gesturing with his head towards the empty seat and she shook her head slightly.

"Maybe you should check on her?" Don suggested quietly.

"Check on who?" Charlie slurred, stopping his monologue abruptly when he realized he didn't have Amita's full attention.

"Aren't you wondering what happened to your date?" Amita asked him coolly.

"Sh-she went to the bathroom to powder her nose or something."

"She's been gone a long time," Amita told him.

"Prob-probably fixing her hair. Girls do that all the time. Your-your hair looks nice, Amita."

"Thanks," Amita said flatly and Don rolled his eyes.

"My guess is she went out a window while she was in there," Don replied, checking his watch again.

"Wh-wh-wh-why would she do that," Charlie managed, slurping the last of his drink through a stirrer loudly before Don yanked the glass away.

"Because you're three sheets to the wind and you've been ignoring her all night in favor of the sound of your own voice and making eyes at my girlfriend," Don said peevishly. "Hell, I'd have left you an hour ago if I didn't know I was going to have to drive your ass home."

Charlie's eyes flared and he raised a drunken finger to point at Don.

"Hey don't do me any favors," he slurred. "You can go ahead and leave. Me and, me and...and…"

"Olivia?" Amita helpfully offered in a disgusted tone.

"Ol-Ol-Olivia—are you sure that's her name?" Charlie asked.

"Yes," Amita snapped.

"Well, Olivia and I will just enjoy the rest of the evening without you."

"I'm pretty sure Olivia _is_ enjoying the rest of _hers_, having had the good sense to leave while she could," Don retorted. "Here, ask someone in the restaurant if they've seen her in case she got lost on her way back and I'll pay the check," Don said to Amita and she stood, somewhat gratefully, and left.

He motioned to their server and half-listened to Charlie ramble on about Olivia and some other nonsense he didn't quite follow as he paid for their meal.

Amita returned just as he was signing the receipt, looking grim.

"The host said he saw her leave twenty minutes ago. Said she called a cab and it came and picked her up."

"Must not have been a window," Don said. "Okay, how do you want to do this?"

"Do what?" she and Charlie asked simultaneously.

"Take him home."

"I don't want to go home," Charlie slurred. "Olivia and I would like to stay and have another drink when she gets back."

"Oliva left a long time ago, and you're cut off. I've already paid the bill." He turned his attention back to Amita.

"I can either give you my keys and call a cab for us," he said, motioning to Charlie, "Or I can drop you off at home on the way to dad's, or I can call you a cab and send you home while I deal with this."

"None of those scenarios involves me going with you," Amita noted.

"Save yourself," Don said. "This isn't going to be pretty."

"You know, I can drifffe myssssself."

"No, you can't, you don't have a car," Amita pointed out.

"Or a license," Don added.

"I'll have you know," Charlie began self-righteously, "that I have a learner's permit."

"Yeah, and we all remember how that went last time, and there wasn't any alcohol involved then," Don replied. "If you can't remember you don't have either of those, there's no way you should be driving."

"I can remember, I just forgot," Charlie said petulantly.

"You sure you can handle him all by yourself?" Amita asked worriedly. "I can help you get him home."

"Been doing it all my life," Don said with a sigh. "Let me call you a cab. If you want, you can help me get him to the car, but I'll take it from there. I love you too much to have him toss his cookies all over your pretty outfit."

"I'm not going to toss my cookies," Charlie said indignantly.

"Uh-huh. Can you walk?" Don said, unamused.

"I can walk just fine, thank you very much." Charlie attempted to stand and demonstrate, but misjudged bracing his hands on the table and nearly fell into it. Don grabbed for him and Amita looped one of Charlie's arms around her shoulder and together they began maneuvering him towards Don's car.

He'd seen his brother drunk before, which was why he knew it wouldn't end well. He was also aware that Charlie had yet to fully grasp he'd been ditched by his date, and given that tonight's double date effort was made to try to make Amita jealous, it was going to be a blow that was felt deeply. He didn't think he needed to add salt to the wound by having Amita there as Charlie imploded.

"Here, let's get him in the front—get the door for me, will ya?" Don grunted, shouldering most of Charlie's weight while Amita unlocked the car door and held it open. Don deposited his brother none too gently in the front passenger seat, belted him in, and slammed the door harder than necessary. Charlie winced at the noise, and looked blearily out the window at Don as he turned his attention to Amita.

"Here," he said, pulling out his wallet to grab some bills for her ride. She waved her hand away, shaking her head.

"I've got money."

"I'm sorry," Don said, and offered her some of his anyway.

"This was even worse than I figured it would be," Amita sighed, finally accepting the cash after a pleading look from Don.

"It was about what I expected," Don replied. Amita glanced behind Don.

"He's going to have one hell of a headache tomorrow, that's for sure."

"If there's any justice in this world," Don agreed.

"You're sure you don't want me to ride home with you guys? Really, I don't mind, and I think you'll need some help."

"No, I think it's best if I'm the one that has to deal with it all. Dad'll be pissed," Don said with a sigh. "I'll be home as soon as I can," he added.

She glanced again behind Don at Charlie and eyed him dubiously.

"Call me when you get him all settled."

He waited until her cab arrived and saw her off with a few brief kisses before turning his attention back to Charlie, mood souring. His brother had his head pressed against the side window, looking forlornly out at the world.

"Love," Charlie moaned when Don turned the key in the ignition.

"What's that?"

"You said love. _I love you_. To 'Mita. I really think you do," he added softly, almost sounding sober. "I don't think I've heard you say I love you to anyone but mom."

Don stared for a moment at his brother, wondering how to answer and if he should even bother to. He'd said it, yes, most frequently to mom, but there had been a few women other than her he'd felt and expressed that level of feeling with. He certainly said it more often and to more people than Charlie implied...didn't he? Well, so he didn't shout it from the rooftops. Amita knew how he felt about her.

"Love," Charlie said again. "Love, love, love, love." Don rolled his eyes and put the car in gear, glad he hadn't bothered with a reply. They traveled for a couple of miles in silence before Charlie spoke again.

"You're my brother."

"Unfortunately," Don replied.

"You're my brother. And as my brother that means I should love you," Charlie continued thickly, as though he was trying to reason something out. "And I do," Charlie slurred. Don said nothing, making a right at the next light and then two lefts at the next street corners.

"I just hate you sometimes, too."

Don suppressed a sigh, jaw clenching as he clamped down on a twinge of emotion and concentrated on the road. He felt Charlie glance at him. Thought he owed him a response.

"I know," he acknowledged.

"You're my brother. I don't want to hate you," he confessed. "But I don't get you. Never have, never will," Charlie announced, a shaky hand reaching out to grab the door handle more tightly. He closed his eyes, feeling his stomach roil as the Don drove over some railroad tracks and made another right turn.

"Yeah, well, that feeling's mutual," Don said testily, feeling that twinge of emotion manifest itself into some hurt at Charlie's declaration.

"Why'd you have to go and steal her?" Charlie whined. "You can have anyone. You know how many brilliant mathematicians there are that are close to my age and single _and_ hot?"

"I didn't steal her, Charlie. Will you get over that? She wasn't even yours to begin with. You went out on one date, end of story."

"No thanks to you," Charlie accused, bracing a hand on the dash in front of him, as Don took his next turn a little hot.

"You know, at first I was sorry about the way we did things but I'm not going to keep apologizing for it. We're together. Move on."

"That's what I was trying – trying to do with, uh, what's her name," Charlie whispered.

"Olivia?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't put too much stock in that relationship after tonight. I'm telling you, if she ever speaks to you again, you should probably marry her."

"Is that what you plan to do with 'Mita?" Charlie asked, closing his eyes as his stomach flip-flopped again.

Don looked at him sharply.

"What?"

"'Mita," Charlie repeated slowly, trying to keep the contents of his stomach on the inside of him, and not on Don's floorboards. "Marry her."

"I hadn't thought about it."

Which wasn't _exactly_ true. He had, granted in the vaguest of terms. He wondered what it was all leading to, this grand experiment on if they worked as a couple, and if so, for how long. But a couple of times, he had caught himself wondering what it would be like to have Amita for his wife, to come home to her every night for the rest of his life. Maybe even raise a family with her. He didn't indulge in flights of fancy often, and wondered if what they had, coming from two very different career fields, was strong enough to survive his life with the FBI.

"You love her," Charlie pointed out. "You loved Kim."

Kim had, as a fellow LEO, known what she was getting into when she had accepted his proposal. Had chosen that life for herself before she'd even met him. Had been married to the job even more than Don had. He wasn't sure that Amita wasn't as focused and unwilling to sacrifice her career as Kim had been.

"Yeah, well, I marry a girl, I'd like to have my brother stand up for me. I don't think we're there yet."

"I can stand," Charlie said indignantly, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turned white. Don veered sharply to the left following a curve and glanced at his brother.

"Are you kidding me, Charlie you can barely sit upright, and so help me God, if you puke all over my car, you're cleaning it up."

"Can you slow down?"

"We're almost there," Don retorted, but decreased his speed. He rolled down Charlie's window, thinking some fresh air might help.

Charlie leaned into it, his grip on the door lessening.

"I miss her," Charlie said after a moment.

"Who? Amita?"

"Yeah."

"You know she misses you, right? You were her friend. You could try acting like one and maybe be happy for her, talk to her, act like she does exist, instead of making a fool out of yourself by getting drunk and trying to make her jealous with some other girl whose name you can't even remember," Don said pointedly.

"Shut up, Don. It's so easy for you."

Don rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, my life's a cakewalk, let me tell you."

"Whatever," Charlie said, pulling his head away from the window and doubling down in his seat. Don took both the turn to the street to their childhood home sharply and the cruise into the driveway hard. Don jerked the car to a stop and turned to his brother, opening his mouth to say something smart.

"Stay there," was all he came up with, after one look at his brother. Don got out of the car and went around to the Charlie's side, wondering if he should wake his dad up first to help, or try to wrangle his brother into the house undetected. Thought if Charlie should fall along the way, he'd leave him for dad to find tomorrow morning in mom's rose bushes, no shame whatsoever.

Sighed and went and pounded on the back door for his father.

Charlie distantly listened to his brother's movements, but mostly focused on his breathing as he tried to regulate the turmoil in his stomach. For once numbers failed him as he tried to remember how much he had to drink tonight. Thought it ironic that Don would know the answer, but he'd left him sitting in the car, and Charlie wondered if Don intended to let him sleep here the whole night. Thought moving might not be such a good idea anyway, as his stomach did one last turn before the contents rose up like a bubbling mass and he vomited all over the front seat and floorboards.

He wretched again, feeling more come up, and he thought he may have went ahead and died when he heard Don return with his dad.

"Donnie, what the hell? Is that Charlie?"

And of course, Dad would be the first person to greet him at the gate.

"Yeah," he heard his brother say and felt the passenger door open. "Ah, shit! Charlie!" he heard Don say angrily.

"What all did he have to drink?" His father asked, worried.

"About half the bar," Don replied sarcastically. "Here, help me get him out of the car."

"Where's Amita?"

"Home," Don said succinctly.

"I don't think he can stand, Donnie."

"I can stand," Charlie said woozily.

He saw Don roll his eyes at his dad. "I can!"

Charlie slid out of the seat, Don wincing at the sight of him and his car, and gripped the open doorframe like a vise.

"See, Dad?"

"Yeah, I see," Alan said, unimpressed.

"Now Don can get married."

"You're getting married?" Alan said sharply, looking at his older son in surprise. "When did this happen?"

"It didn't. He's drunk, dad."

"I'm not drunk!"

"Like hell," Don retorted.

"Are you thinking about getting married?" Alan asked Don curiously after a moment wondering how and why this topic had come up.

"No! Right now I'm thinking about dumping Charlie in the koi pond and going home."

"There's lots of fish in the sea. Pond," Charlie mumbled, his head starting to feel heavy.

"Charlie, a little help here," Don said loudly.

"Watch the steps. We're almost there," his dad encouraged. "What do you think, the couch or upstairs in his bed?"

"Couch, I'm not carrying his ass any further than I have to," Don said and together he and dad lumbered him across the wood floor into the living room, where Charlie promptly vomited again on his mother's wool rug.

"Great," he heard his dad say. "That was your mother's favorite rug."

"We can wrap his body up in it and toss him off the pier."

"Ha, ha," Charlie said weakly.

He collapsed gratefully on the couch, glad for the room to stop spinning. He squinted through narrow eyes and found both his brother and father staring back at him with matching annoyed expressions. He tried for a feeble grin.

"Well, you got the rest of this, right?" Don said, turning to his father and slapping him on the shoulder.

"What? You're not leaving him here with me like this, are you?"

"Yeah," Don said. "Amita's expecting me home." Which wasn't exactly true. Amita was probably curled up fast asleep on his side of the bed in her camisole and panties, having written off ever seeing him home before dawn.

"With your brother like this? Donnie, come on."

"Yeah, Donnie, come on," Charlie slurred, and Don fixed him with another perturbed look, before turning his attention back to his father.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Explain to me how he came home this way, for one," Alan said dryly. "Help me make sure he lives through the night, for another. Besides, do you really want to ride in your car just now all the way back to your apartment?" Don grimaced and heaved a put-upon sigh.

"Let me just text Amita and tell her not to wait up."


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Here we are at the end. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

He came to consciousness slowly.

Painfully.

There was a tiny little man with a jackhammer, pounding at his temple, making him nauseous, taking his breath away at the pain of it, before he realized there was more than one man with a jackhammer – there were dozens, had to be, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught.

It was too bright in here, too. The blinds weren't all the way closed and the light streaked across his face intrusively, frying his eyeballs, and he turned his head away and wished he hadn't. A new wave a misery came over him, and he swallowed thickly and hoped he didn't puke right then and there. He laid there for a long time, enough that it slowly permeated he was home, on the downstairs couch, judging by the obnoxious clanging he could hear in the next room, and he wished to God he had enough strength to yell at them to stop.

He risked opening one bleary, bloodshot eye and quickly closed it again.

Heard some gargantuous footfalls beset the room, wondered what giant could make that kind of noise, how the house couldn't be falling down around him and was grateful when it stopped a few moments later.

"Morning, sunshine!"

"Uhgh," he moaned, throwing an arm over his face.

His father. Of course.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mmght," he moaned in reply, a combination of _horrible _and _please shut up_ that he didn't think translated.

"I thought you might want something to drink," his dad continued.

"Uhgh," Charlie said again, the thought of ever drinking again…never…never would he touch another drop of alcohol again in his lifetime.

"It's water," his dad said drily.

Water. Actually, water did sound good, as he suddenly realized his throat felt like he'd swallowed a pair of Don's gym socks.

Don.

He furrowed his brow slightly in concentration, but that hurt too much and he laid there contemplating what was so significant about Don. Gave up when it proved to be too difficult a study.

"Come on, sit up," His dad said and Charlie moaned again.

Well if that was the caveat then his dad could just forget it. He'd lay here and dehydrate until he died. He didn't think it would be that long from now, actually. Thankfully.

"Charlie," His dad said again and he felt a hand under his neck, guiding him to sit up. Cool, delicious liquid met his lips and he slurped greedily, his dad admonishing him to take it slow. He fell back gracelessly against the arm of the couch when his father released him.

"Here, I set a couple of ibuprofens on the table beside you."

Charlie opened one eye again and spied the pills, and the glass of water, a few feet away.

Might as well have been in the next county, Charlie thought and sighed.

"Would you like something to eat? I'm cooking your brother breakfast. Bacon? Eggs? Sausage?"

Charlie tightened the arm around his head and hoped his father would shut up.

He wondered where Don was.

Had his answer twenty minutes later when he heard his brother clatter into the house, bouncing a basketball. Charlie cringed every time it hit the floor, breathing a grateful sigh of relief when it stopped for a moment.

"He awake?" he heard his brother ask.

"Barely, he's still lying there in the living room."

He shuddered again when Don released the basketball, listening to him bounce it along the floor of the house, wondering why his father didn't say anything as he always did when Don was younger and playing sports in the house. Don made his way over to Charlie in the living room, the dribbling rattling the china in the cabinet, making Charlie's teeth clatter on edge with it, Don still bouncing the ball with every step.

By the time Don reached him, Charlie was a tightly curled mess of pain, nausea and annoyance. The footfalls stopped beside the couch, but the dribbling didn't, and Charlie listened to it hit the floor and back again for ten seconds before opening both eyes to glare at his brother, who dribbled faster and grinned maliciously.

"Donnie," he heard his dad call in a warning and the dribbling abruptly ceased.

"Oh, did I wake you?" Don asked him in his loudest voice instead and Charlie winced involuntarily. "Sorry," Don added not sounding it in the least.

He had some vague recollection of him and Don…

Still it was too far away for him to grasp and he rolled on his side as Don took a seat on the edge of the couch, pinning him in. He opened one eye, watching as his brother spun the ball between an axis made with two fingertips.

"What do you want?" Charlie moaned, wishing he would go away.

"I just want to know how my little brother is feeling," Don said, shaking his shoulder roughly, jostling him and his fragile stomach with the motion and Charlie slapped a hand at him to stop. Was rewarded with Don ruffling his hair instead.

"Why do you care?" Charlie said, swatting at him.

"I'm your brother," Don replied mockingly. "Why wouldn't I?"

Charlie opened his eye again to consider him carefully.

"I'm the one who made sure you got home safely, tucked away in your bed after last night."

"This isn't my bed," Charlie pointed out.

"Yeah, well, considering I had to practically carry you, you should be glad it's not the rosebushes out front, or the concrete of the driveway."

Charlie stared at Don, trying to piece together the blips of images that erupted in his mind at Don's words.

Yes, Don had been there last night, he remembered that. Sitting in his car, talking…

Talking. There had been a lot of talking, hadn't there? Someone had talked incessantly, as a matter of fact.

That couldn't have been Don, he reasoned, eyes flicking back to his brother. Don spun the ball again and waited patiently for him to work through it.

It was all too hard, Charlie thought, what with the work crew still hammering away at him, and the smells from the kitchen tying his stomach into knots, and Don looking at him like he knew something Charlie didn't.

"Whatever," Charlie said, ignoring Don in favor of the glass of water and pills next to him. He hoped by staring at them longingly his brother would notice and hand them to him, bridging the impossible chasm between the sofa and coffee table.

He didn't.

Instead, he returned to bouncing the ball in that space and Charlie winced visibly with each bounce.

"Will you give that the hell up?" Charlie snapped.

"Oh, does this bother you?" Don asked innocently. Charlie glared up at him.

"I hate you sometimes," he muttered.

"So you said last night," Don replied flippantly.

Had he? Had he said that to Don? He squinted again at the enigma that was his brother, his expression giving nothing away as he focused on the basketball. Why would he have said that—

The front door opened, causing a burst of light to come through and brighten the room and Charlie groaned loudly, clutching his head.

"Hey," Amita said when she spied them.

"Hey," Don said, sounding far more pleasant to her than he had to Charlie just a few seconds ago.

"I see he lived through the night," Amita noted, thankfully shutting the door and coming to stand by Don.

"Regrettably," Don replied, snickering lightly at Charlie when Charlie looked at him, and bounced the ball against the hardwood a half-dozen times before Amita snatched it away. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief as Amita gave Don an old-fashioned look, and Don grinned unrepentantly.

"How are you feeling?" Amita asked him with some concern, and Charlie thought, _finally, some real sympathy_.

He shrugged and tried to look the appropriate level of pathetic.

He opened one eye to see if it was working and caught Don and Amita sharing a look, Don shaking his head slightly. He squinted more closely at them before Amita turned her attention to his dad who called out to her.

"Amita? Is that you, dear?"

"Yeah," Amita shouted back. "I came to see how Charlie was doing."

"Would you like some breakfast? I was just making some eggs," Alan called and Charlie squeezed his eyes shut again against the sound.

"Sure, whatever you're fixing," Amita hollered back. "I feel like something greasy," she added, looking back at Charlie who felt his stomach roil at the thought.

"I feel like some runny eggs," Don told her, and Charlie flicked a disbelieving eye to his brother. "Or maybe some sausage gravy, you know - some of that thick white gravy and huge, greasy chunks of—"

"Okay, okay, enough! What did I ever do to you two?" Charlie moaned, bracing a hand out, as though to stop the onslaught of words.

"You were a first-rate jerk," Amita said flatly, and Charlie opened his eyes to consider her.

Don stared back patiently.

"I mean, you've been a jerk for a while now, but you really outdid yourself last night."

He stared at Amita, looking between her and Don.

Amita and Don. Don and Amita...

Don was _with_ Amita. They were together, as a couple. Had been for a while now. He remembered, groaned and buried his face in the couch.

Last night.

Last night and their date. His date. Their double date.

Don and Amita, watching as Charlie drank himself stupid in front of both of them and his…what was her name? Don taking him home.

"Oh god," he moaned.

"Ah, he remembers!" Don said triumphantly, standing up from the couch.

"Don, set the table, will you?" he heard Dad say.

"Here, I'll help you," Amita offered and Don and Amita moved away from Charlie as he processed everything.

Amita and Don. The affair that was and wasn't.

That's right he wasn't really speaking to either of them. He sat up, groaning, as Don and Amita talked between themselves and Alan who called out to them periodically. He remembered the kiss between his brother and Amita he'd witnessed yesterday. How open and animated Don had seemed with her. He watched them now as they set the table, for the first time really seeing how intimately they interacted together; how his brother had said he loved her.

"Charlie, you're up!" Alan crowed mockingly when he came in from the kitchen and spied him sitting on the couch. "And so close to completely vertical. Donnie, help your brother to the table."

Charlie saw Don sigh but made his way dutifully over to his brother to offer assistance; remembered how Don had shouldered him to the car, and then into the house, uncomplainingly taking it on because, well, it was Don, and that was what Don did no matter what his personal feelings were.

Like last night. He'd had to have wanted to be anywhere but there with Charlie, made to feel excluded and unnecessary by Charlie's – Amita was right – jerk-like behavior, but he'd been there, and he doubted it was because Amita had insisted upon it.

"I got it. I got it," Charlie waved him away, a little bit ashamed, and Don hesitated and watched Charlie struggle to his feet, feeling the room swim as he did so but managed to remain upright. After a moment he began moving, ignoring Don, and shuffled towards the dining area, since the stairs to his room seemed like too much to aspire to, right now. Don trailed along behind him a few steps, before Charlie stopped and motioned for him to precede him.

"I said, I got it."

"Okay," Don said and returned to Amita's side. Despite her likely still simmering fury and disgust over his behavior, she pulled out a chair for him at the table and Charlie sank gratefully in it. She took the seat beside Don and Charlie let his head sink slowly down until his face was resting against the tablecloth.

It moved a second later when Don gripped him by his hair to place a plate underneath Charlie's chin and let it go.

Actually, the cool porcelain felt much more soothing than the scratchy fabric of the tablecloth.

"All right, let's eat – Charlie, I'm not going to let you sit at the table like that."

Well, the alternative was for him to list to the side and curl up in a ball on the floor at the base of it, so Charlie didn't bother to reply to his dad.

"Leave him be," Don said, and Charlie felt a reluctant twinge of gratefulness at his brother for defending him. Frowned when he remembered certainly didn't want his brother to think he'd forgiven him anything.

Most of breakfast, his family ignored him and he his family.

"Charlie, come on. At least have some eggs, get something in your stomach. It'll help you feel a little better," his dad said, and Charlie found enough strength to raise his head and consider the eggs in question. He winced and lowered his head, jerking it away in time when a spoonful of scrambled eggs appeared just below his face on the plate.

"Eat up," Don said helpfully. Charlie glared at his brother and then his dad, but dutifully picked up a fork. He _was _kind of hungry. He managed a few small bites of eggs, when a slice of toast appeared beside him from Amita. He ate that too, feeling a little better with some food in his stomach.

"Keep going. You'll need your strength," Alan encouraged, handing him another slice.

"For what?" He didn't plan on doing anything today but sleep in a darkened and soundproofed room. His brother answered as Charlie bit down on another piece of toast.

"Well, there's still the little matter of you needing to shampoo the upholstery in my car," and Charlie paused, mid-chew.

* * *

"Smells great, doesn't it?" Don said sarcastically from behind him. "Just what I want. To be stuck in Monday morning gridlock having to deal with that."

Charlie winced, both at the sharpness of Don's voice - the pain it caused in his skull, and the mental image Don brought to mind. He watched as Don wrangled the hose around to the car and filled a bucket with soapy water. He threw some rubber gloves at Charlie and handed him another bucket filled with some miscellaneous cleaning agents and carpet shampoo.

"The only thing I better be dealing with Monday is the overpowering scent of cleanliness." Charlie looked skeptically at the vehicle. "I'm serious Charlie, it had better smell like a dryer sheet in there or so help me god you're going to buy me and the FBI a new car."

A new car might be easier, he reasoned. He could just write out a check now, and head upstairs to bed. Everyone could be happy.

He gripped the bucket Don had handed him and contemplated the passenger side.

"Have fun," Don said sardonically, clapping him forcefully on the shoulder, pushing him closer. "I know I did, dealing with it."

"Why did you?" Charlie asked after a long moment, pondering Don's motivations. "You could have just left me there. If the situation was reversed, I'd have left you there. Especially after what you did."

"What did I do?"

"Steal Amita."

"Oh would you," Don's face screwed up in annoyance. "I didn't _steal _Amita. And you wonder why we didn't want to tell you we were together? Ladies and gentleman of the jury, Exhibit A!" He indicated Charlie with a jab of his hand.

"Is that why you did it, you felt guilty about you and Amita? Thought I might forgive you?"

"Oh, no. Are you kidding? I know you're going to take that to your grave. I can see your epitaph now: _Here lies Charlie Eppes, brilliant mathematician and grudge holder. His brother had the audacity to fall in love with a woman he once held a passing interest in. Worse, the woman reciprocated the feeling."_

"It was more than just a passing interest."

"No it wasn't," Don retorted.

"Oh, what do you know about it, Don?"

"You're right. What do I know? And more importantly, what should it matter what I feel about something when you've stated your intentions. According to you, I don't have feelings anyway," Don yelled, incensed. Charlie's winced, and rubbed his temple.

"Would you please stop yelling?" he groaned.

"I'll do you one better. I'll just stop talking. Heck, why stop there? Why don't I just stop breathing? Would that please your highness?"

"Seriously, if you're this upset at _me_, why did you even bother? Why not leave me there?"

"Thought about it," Don said after a long moment where Charlie thought Don had enacted his promise of silent treatment. Charlie raised his eyebrows. "But I think you're wrong. You wouldn't have left me there if the situation had been reversed, either."

"You sure about that?" Charlie replied derisively.

"Positive," Don said. "Oh, you would have wanted to, definitely, don't get me wrong. You would have spent probably a good ten minutes debating with yourself about it. Then you would have done the same thing I did. Grumbled and bitched under your breath about having to haul your stupid, brilliant brother's sorry drunken ass home and deal with him, but you'd have done it anyway. You'd check in on him the next day and make sure he didn't die in his sleep from alcohol poisoning, and rub it in and be as annoying as possible. Oh, and you'd make sure the ungrateful shit shampooed the carpet and seats in the government vehicle he vomited all over in."

He wasn't as convinced that would be the case as his brother.

He pondered Don for a moment out of one eye, the other squeezed shut against the onslaught of light and noise and Don's anger.

"I suppose you expect a thank you," Charlie ventured sarcastically.

Don snorted.

"Like you said last night, we're brothers. The relationship you and I have is...complicated, to say the least, and yes, even more so by what I did with Amita. It's been colored by a lot of misperceptions and resentment stemming from things that happened during our childhood, that you and I both have difficulty letting go. I've been looking after you my whole life. That wasn't going to change in that one instance. Besides, Dad ever found out I left you there like that and it would be my ass."

"Right," Charlie said, looking down. A sense of duty, then, had prevailed. He was genuinely curious as to what drove Don's decisions and behavior. He glanced up curiously at his brother, a mixture of emotions swirling in his gut. Don was the one person he'd always talked to, whether his brother had wanted to participate in the conversation or not.

"I'm so angry," he confessed as Don started to move away again. His brother froze, posture stiffening, knowing exactly what Charlie was talking about. "And it's like I don't know who to be mad at. You, Amita, or me for blowing it with her in the first place. I think I'm maddest at myself," he mumbled.

"Join the club. Now you know how we feel. There's just no good answer, Charlie," Don said plainly, turning slightly so that Charlie could see his profile. "I knew you'd look upon our relationship as some failing I had, by not staying away from her when I should have. I knew you'd probably hate me. And you know what? I went and did it all anyway and that should probably tell you something."

"You're not sorry," Charlie stated, stung that Don admitted it..

Don cocked his head to the side.

"I am, actually, not enough to stop seeing Amita, but I am," Don said. "And no. I would hope that it would tell you that there was maybe something significant there that deserved some exploring. But you know what? When you find the perfect to solution to all this, you let me know. One that doesn't result in hurt feelings and two people having to stay apart because it bothers a third one, who really, despite his hollow protests to the contrary, has no say in what happens. It would be really nice if we could all get past this, because what good is it doing any of us to hang on to all the hurt and anger? And now innocent people are getting sucked into it. Olivia was a bit much, but I don't think she deserved the date she got with you last night."

Olivia.

Right, Charlie winced again and hung his head a little. No, and he hadn't really impressed her with his brilliance or courtly behavior. He'd honestly be lucky if she agreed to even work with him on the project. And God, what if she had complained to Millie?

"I'm sorry, too," Charlie said to Don's back as he marched towards the house, foot pausing on the back-porch stoop. "For yesterday," he clarified, at Don's inquisitive raise of brow. "And some of the rest of it, I suppose," Charlie added grudgingly, glancing at Don out of the corner of his eye to see if he was still listening.

"I hope you tell that to Amita," Don said pregnant pause. Charlie nodded after a moment.

"I will," and Don nodded after a moment, seemingly satisfied with that. He turned to climb the steps of the porch when Charlie spoke again.

"You look really happy together," Charlie told him.

"Haven't screwed it up yet."

"You'd better keep it that way."

* * *

"Don! Hey, Don!" Charlie called out when he spotted his older brother across the bullpen. Don turned and found his girlfriend and his brother approaching, both laden down with files, a couple of poster tubes, and one laptop computer in Amita's case, which she deposited on Don's desk.

"Charlie. Hey," he said to Amita, giving her a brief smile before focusing on his brother again. "What's up?"

"I think we've got it figured out, well - _you've_ got it figured out," Charlie said, smiling at Amita.

"Oh, yeah?" Don looked to Amita. She grinned, looking pleased with herself at the praise, as she caught Don's eye again, and proceeded to explain.

She always looked particularly alluring, he thought, when she was happy about something, and he wished they were in a more private setting so he could appreciate it better.

More importantly, he was glad that she had decided pass on the assistant professorship at Harvard so he _could_ enjoy it. She had stated emphatically that she hadn't made that choice entirely because of him, but when he'd told her he had decided it was time to upgrade nto a better apartment and wanted her to live with him full time, she'd definitely been pleased.

So it wasn't a marriage proposal, but both he and Amita agreed that they weren't ready for that step yet and privately Don thought it might be more than Charlie could handle even if they had been.

It had gradually gotten better between all of them since the day after Charlie got plastered. Of course, it was a little hard to claim the moral high ground after spending three hours disinfecting the front passenger seat of Don's car. That wasn't to say that things were great. Still, some steps had been taken to repair the fractured relationship between Don and Charlie, and Charlie and Amita.

Charlie and Amita had started to collaborate again on cases. They were also working together on a few special projects for the university, gradually resuming the friendship they'd once had.

After studying the situation from multiple angles, eliciting input from several different sources, and configuring a few equations on the subject of Don and Amita, Charlie determined Don and everyone else was at least half right. There was no perfect answer, except letting go of his hurt and anger, and moving on with his life. Though he didn't fully agree - and probably never would - with why they carried on and kept it secret, he came to see there was some sincere sentiment between his brother and Amita that had started it.

As much as Charlie had tried to believe he and Amita had had something, he was forced to admit the math didn't add up like it did with Don and her. She and Charlie had been trying too hard to make something work in a romantic way by going on that date when they were happier as friends.

While his relationship with his brother improved, Don rarely discussed topics concerning Amita with Charlie or talked at length about her unless Charlie brought it up. Which, Charlie reflected, wasn't any different behavior from any other girl his brother had dated. He had slightly better odds of learning what was going on with his brother from Amita, but she was also surprisingly reticent on the subject.

He wasn't sure whether he was grateful for the fact he didn't have to hear his brother wax poetic about his relationship with Amita or disappointed to once again be shut out of another aspect of Don's life.

He didn't know if the desire to keep things private and between them was ingrained from months of sneaking around, or Amita showing some deference to Don's natural state, or perhaps just Don rubbing off on her.

There was another contentious moment when jealousy decided to rear its ugly head again, after Charlie realized Amita had become his brother's confidante, and now possibly had a closer relationship with Don than Charlie. She seemed confident of her ability to understand his brother and what made him tick, while Charlie still struggled to make sense of Don and his motives sometimes.

She had some particularly maddening theories on Don and Charlie's relationship that hadn't been well received, either.

Charlie set up in the conference room with Amita and a couple of FBI techs a little while later, while Don briefed his team. It looked like Don was suiting up as well, strapping on his tactical gear and Charlie saw Amita glance that way, biting her lip in concern, as she tried not to stare after his brother.

He did not revel in the idea of having to comfort his brother's girlfriend - even if said girlfriend was Amita - if something happened to Don, and Charlie resolved to go over the data one more time and make sure he had it right.

"You can – you know, I got this, if you want to…" Charlie said pointing towards Don and Amita shook her head resolutely.

"He wouldn't want that. No, I'm good. Don'll be fine," she added, sounding like she was convincing herself of that fact. She looked out at his brother again, caught his eye and held it for a second. She broke the contact first, concentrating on feeding her laptop information and Don turned his attention back to David and Colby as Megan took point in the room with Charlie and Amita.

It was unbelievably hard when she was pushed into situations like this. Helping Charlie with something for Don and forced to be the one who sat at the office listening in real time as to whether their theory not only worked but kept Don and his team out of danger.

Who was she kidding? She was only this terrified because it directly involved Don, but she was resolved in not becoming a clingy, unreasonable, girlfriend. This was Don's job, and he was good at it, and she had to let him work, just as he let her.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the final all clear come across the radio, Don's voice as cool and collected as he consistently exhibited as an agent. He took charge of the scene and began issuing orders to his team and relaying information back to Charlie and Megan. Amita felt Megan's eyes on her, which she ignored in favor of tweaking the algorithm she had developed for the case. Of course, they all knew about her and Don thanks to Charlie, but out of respect for Don and his quest to maintain a separate personal life and professional one, Amita didn't invite any discussion or questions about their being a couple.

Amita was nowhere to be found when Don and his team returned, having recovered some evidence that would likely convict their suspect, though Don knew where to look for her. After he had checked in with Megan and Charlie, he went in search of her.

Found her on the mezzanine, drinking one of her soy lattes and people watching on a bench, her back to him. She jumped, gasping, as he came up behind her and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

"We got him," Don said, finding the spot just under her ear she liked and nipped gently at it.

"That's good," she said enjoying his embrace for a moment before Don pulled away, trying to recapture some semblance of professional distance.

"Thought we could celebrate tonight," he continued.

"We still need to finish unpacking everything at the apartment."

"We do," he agreed, "but why not take a night off and focus on christening a few rooms in the apartment instead?" Don grinned and she shook her head, trying unsuccessfully not to smile. She touched the bulletproof vest he still wore, making sure he was whole and truly there.

"Not a scratch on me," Don confirmed. "Went easy. Wish they all went like that," he said wistfully.

"You and me both," Amita muttered.

"Were you worried?"

"Of course not," she replied flippantly, not looking at him. "I knew you'd handle it." Was overcome for a moment with emotion when he put both hands on the side of her face and kissed her again gently. She glanced up at him, found his warm, chocolate eyes looking deeply into hers. He had such beautiful eyes, framed by long lashes and pale skin that made the dark color pop all the more in his face.

"Were you?" she asked softly.

"I was coming home to you," he said seriously after a moment. A smile played on his lips. "We have unfinished business there, after all."

"We already did that," she said, louder, referring to his christening suggestion.

"Not all of them," Don replied.

"What ones did we miss? We don't have that many rooms."

"Hmm, the kitchen."

"We did that the first night."

"The spare bedroom."

"Also, the first night."

"The guest bathroom."

"Two days ago."

"The closet." It was a decent sized walk-in that had actually elicited a girly squeal when Amita had first seen it. One she had the lion's share of, too.

"This morning."

"Well god forbid we repeat any," Don huffed and Amita grinned.

"Don't be cranky," she said.

"I'm not cranky," he retorted crankily. "My girlfriend is apparently bored with our sex life, is all."

"I never said that, I'm just perfectly content to spend a night making love to you in our bedroom, in our bed. Besides, you don't want to do anything to strain your back again," she added cheekily, and Don pulled away giving her a narrow-eyed look.

"Lucky for you I can do some of my best work there," he said smugly.

His phone buzzed, Amita's a second after it.

"Charlie," they both said and looked at the message.

_Where are you?_

"Looks like it's time to get back to work."

"I've got a bunch of reports to file," Don said with a sigh, taking a couple of steps back. "You coming?"

"To help you file reports? I'm going to finish my latte," she said. "Tell Charlie I'll be there in a minute."

"You and your lattes," Don replied. "I can't believe they even offer that swill here so close to the FBI building."

"I'm glad you never realized that. We might never have been, you and I, if all you had to do was go downstairs and buy me one. Seemed like it worked out better for us that you had to take me out somewhere and buy one."

Don smiled, remembering, and turned and strode back to the building.

"You suckered me into it," He called over his shoulder.

"Keep telling yourself that."


End file.
